


Forever Within My Numbered Days

by LyricalViolet



Category: Haven - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-11-27 19:29:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 92,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyricalViolet/pseuds/LyricalViolet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He needed her, needed to talk to her, needed to stop this bullshit dance they’d been practicing for the last few months. He’d known she was trying to push him away, and he’d let her. It was easier to be angry at her then ask the harder questions. Being angry at her made it easier to ingratiate himself with Jordan, with the Guard. Wrapping himself in the hurt had helped ease the guilt of having a relationship with Jordan. But it always came back to Audrey. Only ever Audrey. Having traveled to 1955 and seeing Sarah, being with her, he was more sure of that one single fact than ever it was always Audrey. For him and for Haven.</p><p>Audrey/Nathan romance, D/N/A friendship. Rated M for swearing, and (eventually) SEX! (x-posted to ff.net as author Queen Gwenyvere)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. our hearts are not like ticking clocks

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for all of Haven up through and including the end of S3, although this story does not follow exactly the storyline of S3. I've borrowed some episode dialogue where appropriate. One may also notice references to BSG, Doctor Who, Farscape, the Time Traveler's Wife, Buffy, The West Wing, various Nora Roberts novels, and anything else that's influenced me. The title of this piece comes from a line from John Green's book The Fault In Our Stars. Chapter title comes from the song "Fireflies and Songs" by Sara Groves. Haven belongs to SyFy, Sam and Jim, etc. Thanks to all the Havenites on Tumblr who gave me such great feedback and support when I posted this first chapter there on Monday. Huge shout out to my dear LadyCallie for betaing everything I've written for the last 13 years. Also huge thanks to my MamaK, the venerable rutsky, who encouraged me to write this and who has been reading this piece throughout it's development.

On the second story deck of a building covered in sea-weathered shake shingles, under a crystal clear night sky, in a picturesque little town on the edge of the Maine coast that sometimes felt as though it were at the edge of the world, Audrey Parker sat and slowly sipped a beer. In well-worn black yoga pants that were slightly too long and covered half her feet, and an over-sized even more well-worn grey flannel shirt, her bare feet up on the banister, Audrey took a long pull and contemplated her life.

The shirt was Nathan's, acquired after a Troubled case landed her swimming in the cold harbor the temperature of which being hardly bearable even in the summer on a brisk fall evening. Nathan had stripped off the flannel shirt and passed it to her, leaving himself in only a thin gray T-shirt.  _Not a terrible thing to look at_ , she mused,  _Nathan Wuornos in a nicely fitting t-shirt_.

She remembered that her chilly fingers had itched to sneak up under the hem of it to warm themselves on the flesh of his stomach. Instead, she'd settled for cranking up the old blue Bronco's heat. She had meant to return the shirt to him, but never had managed to find the time. If she was being honest, she had no intention of ever returning it. It was foolish and terribly female of her, but she liked that it smelled faintly of him her partner, her best friend, the one person she could absolutely trust.

Under different circumstances, she mused as she examined the chipped purple paint on her toe nails, they could have been more than friends. God knew that they both wanted to be. But in a matter of weeks she was going to be whisked away by a force she could barely understand, not to be seen again for 27 years. When she came back, her hair and eyes and name would be different. She'd have the same face, but someone else's memories, someone else's name. And she wouldn't have aged, while everyone she had left behind would have gone on with their lives - not that she would remember them anyway.

She couldn't do that to him. They were close, more than partners by their own admissions, and her leaving would affect him, she knew, regardless of what she did. However, if she could lessen the impact, make it somehow easier for him, she was damned if she wouldn't do so. They'd been heading for something at one point, a dinner of homemade pancakes that never were eaten, stolen, hurried kisses that were never acted on because of Troubles and kidnapping, ghosts and selkies, Groundhog days and one of them getting killed twice.

The Universe had a sense of humor, that was for damned sure. First, it landed her in Haven with the memories of an FBI officer, ensuring that she would ultimately partner up with the son of the chief of police. They'd become trusted partners, friends. They'd dated other people, to varying degrees of failure. Just when it seemed like they were maybe, possibly, heading towards each other on the same path, she had been kidnapped by the Bolt Gun Killer, interrupting their first real date. Then Duke had told her about The Hunter, that she would disappear in less than two months.

In that instant, Audrey had known what she had to do. She'd begun pushing Nathan away, even as she knew he worked to find the BGK, to protect her from him. She'd ended up pushing him into the arms of another woman, a woman for whom Nathan seemed to be tailor made the man who couldn't feel anything was perfect for a woman who was essentially a human taser. Jordan McKee. A member of the mysterious Guard.

Haven was full of mysteries. Audrey had always felt the one thing she was good at was solving those mysteries. Now it was seeming that she might be the town's biggest mystery of all. Always had been. For at least three cycles of the Troubles, some version of her had been in Haven, trying to help the afflicted. Nathan and Duke had just met one incarnation Sarah Vernon, Korean War WAC, nurse, redhead, the mother of the Colorado Kid, and the woman who killed Duke's grandfather.

Sarah had been full of fire. That's how Nathan had described her. Amazing, incredible, lonely.  _Was it possible to be jealous of a woman who was essentially yourself?_  Audrey wondered. Because she did feel jealous of Sarah Vernon, the mention of whom now brought a look to Nathan's eye that Audrey only used to see when he looked at her. Audrey wished she could remember what happened that summer in 1955.

There were so many memories that she had lost. She had tried to remember them, despite the pain and the blood and the threat that remembering posed to her life. She wondered now if her dream of the man she'd known as Agent Howard telling her to stop remembering had really been a dream at all.

With a sound that was half sigh, half groan, Audrey plunked her empty beer bottle on the weathered table beside her. She leaned her head against the back of the equally weathered Adirondack chair and closed her eyes, hoping to shut out the world, shut off her brain. She should go inside and go to sleep. That would be the mature, adult thing to do, rather than sit out here half chilled and half drunk, brooding. She didn't want to open her eyes and look at the starry sky above her. A few months ago, doing so would have been a pleasure, but now, looking at the night sky only reminded her of what she had to lose, what she would lose.

She heard the telltale creak of a foot stepping on to the first step of the staircase that led up to her deck. A few months ago, she might've assumed it was Duke coming up for a nightcap, a card game, a talk. Now, as she listened to the light footfalls, she wrapped a hand around the neck of her empty beer bottle; everything was a weapon. Truer words, she mused. The footsteps got closer and her eyes popped open. She was half-way risen out of her chair, bottle hefted high when she heard him call her name.

"Audrey?" Nathan's voice preceded him up the stairs by a few seconds.

Sitting again, she returned the beer bottle - casually, she hoped - to the table. "Hi," she said quietly. She furrowed her brow. "Is everything ok?"

He stood, awkward and clearly uncomfortable, his hand scratching at the back of his neck in a gesture she knew to be nervous habit or affectation it wasn't like if he had an itch he could feel it, or feel himself scratching it. She could almost see him mentally shuffling his feet. "Yeah, I -" He looked at her set up, the two empty beer bottles on the rail, the third beside her. "You got any more of those?" he asked, nodding towards the refuse.

She jerked a thumb in the direction of her fridge, inside the apartment. "Help yourself."

He nodded in thanks and walked past her into the apartment, careful not to touch her. She sighed, squeezing her eyes shut and rapidly, quietly banging her skull against the back of the chair. She wondered what he wanted. They'd grown apart, of late, which was her doing she knew that. Earlier that day, after he and Duke had returned from their sojourn to the past and she had told him about who the Colorado Kid actually was, what she had learned on her trip while he was going around getting himself shot and killed, he'd gotten the strangest look on his face. He'd left not long after, saying he had "things" to do. He'd probably gone and saw Jordan, she thought bitterly.

Suddenly, a blanket was unceremoniously dropped from on high and covered her head. Sputtering more out of annoyance than anything else, she poked her head out and saw it was the quilt from her couch. At her puzzled look, as Nathan sat in the other chair beside her, he said "Radio said it was going to get into the 40s tonight. Thought you might need that."

Realizing that she was a bit chilly, and her feet were freezing, she wrapped herself up in the quilt she'd bought at a store in town. For a while, they sat in silence, staring out at the bay.  _So much has changed in a few months_ , Audrey thought sadly. Before her kidnapping, before she had found out about the Hunter, this would have been an enjoyable evening a couple of beers, decent weather, each other's companionship. Now, it seemed that every breath, every word not spoken, every touch not given was another stone. Another weight in her coffin, dragging her down.

Screwing up her determination, she rolled her head to one side and fixed her gaze on him. "Nathan," she said pointedly. "What's up?"

Leaning forward, elbows on his knees as he let the bottle dangle loosely from one hand, he turned to meet her gaze. She looked so fragile, so tired. A little girl bundled up in a blanket, wearing an oversized shirt and looking for the life of him like she was carrying a huge, heavy, invisible cross on her back. Sometimes he wondered how she didn't break from it, when so many would have done. She was strong, his Audrey.

_What's up, Nathan?_

Why had he come here? After avoiding Jordan with the excuse of paperwork, his car had driven here almost without his realizing it. He blithely wondered if someone's Trouble was acting up and cars were driving themselves, but he knew that wasn't the case. He needed her, needed to talk to her, needed to stop this bullshit dance they'd been practicing for the last few months. He'd known she was trying to push him away, and he'd let her. It was easier to be angry at her then ask the harder questions. Being angry at her made it easier to ingratiate himself with Jordan, with the Guard. Wrapping himself in the hurt had helped ease the guilt of having a relationship with Jordan. But it always came back to Audrey. Only ever Audrey. Having traveled to 1955 and seeing Sarah, being with her, he was more sure of that one single fact than ever it was always Audrey. For him and for Haven.

He took one last pull of her beer. "I miss you," he said simply, not sure that was where he'd intended to start, then conceded it was as good a place as any, when she was three beers deep and he'd just pounded one back in record time.

Her eyes flashed pain for a split second, then she arched a brow. "I haven't gone anywhere." Yet, they both thought.

"Yeah, you have, and I sorta...let you," he said, setting his empty bottle beside hers on the table. "How long did you know about the Hunter before you told me?"

"Not long." Her answer was casual, off hand, simple, her voice steady. Inside, she felt as though she was breaking in half.  _God Nathan, do you think I've been lying to you?_  But she had been. Omission was a sin as much as anything else.

"That's why you gave up the dog; that's why you started acting so differently."

She took a deep breath. She was half drunk and wanted to go to bed but he was here and she was cozy inside the blanket he'd given her and she thought _fuck it, I don't have much time left. I owe him honesty._  On the other hand, she was bristling for an argument, as the beers did their work, and he had become so easy to argue with. Even when they were protecting each other, trying to save each other from life and death and something worse, they had fought, sniped, bickered. A thousand little wounds that made her ache. It would have been easier to give in, to love him, but how much more pain would that ultimately bring? She had to do the hard things, the things that hurt her; it was alright if she hurt, so long as others hurt less. "Are you asking me, or telling me?"

"Dammit, Parker -"

"Nathan, what was I supposed to do? You were making all these plans, for festivals and tickets to do things and I couldn't let you -" She bit her lip. "I didn't want you to make plans...with me."

"Did you ever think about what I wanted? Even for a second?"

 _Yes. You wanted me._  She did not say it out loud, merely set her mouth in a razor thin line.

He stood up from his chair, began pacing. "You didn't. You did your Audrey Parker thing and made a decision for us, and I'm supposed to like it? To say 'thank you?'"

"My 'Audrey Parker thing'?" she asked incredulously.

"You do this...thing. This 'I don't need anyone, I'm the Immune to the Troubles Girl' thing. It's like you think you're immune to getting hurt, or it doesn't matter if you get hurt, so long as no one else does." His voice was rising. "Which is ridiculous, because of course it matters. I never thought you were stupid, Parker, but sometimes you're a moron."

In one corner of her mind, Audrey thought to be impressed with his rampage, the pacing and the force of his words. It would have been more impressive if it wasn't directed at her. The rest of her mind, through the filmy haze of three beers and an increasing level of exhaustion, registered mostly that he was _yelling at her_  for trying to do right by him. She would have stood up, but thought she might wobble. At the risk of her dignity, she stayed seated but fixed him with a steely gaze.

"You are pushing your luck, Nathan Wournos," she warned, her voice dark.

"Really? Maybe it's time you got pushed. Maybe it's time I stop letting you try to ruin things because you're scared." He all but spat the word at her, his words shredding her self control, her will to see it through.

"You think I'm not?" He stopped pacing in front of her, his eyes haunted. "Jesus Audrey, why else would I join the Guard? I  _broke the law_." He looked like a caged animal, restless and feral as he resumed pacing. No, not pacing; stalking. "I'd do it again. I am going to keep doing it." His blue eyes locked with hers and she felt trapped. "I'd do anything, except let you ruin us."

"I'm not trying to ruin anything! I'm trying -" Her voice almost broke but she bit down on it. Her own ravaged eyes met his. "Nathan, I'm trying."

"I know, baby," he crouched, reached out to smooth her hair, saw her eyes were slightly glazed from the alcohol. He couldn't decide if her being half drunk made her more amenable or more obstinate. He knew what it felt like to want to hide from pain. He also knew what the absence of feeling any pain could do to a person. "Why can't we try together?" His fingers stroked her hair and he marveled at the feel of it, all silk and velvet moonlight.

She closed her eyes, and giving in to what she wanted, nuzzled his palm. He felt her warm breath on the skin of his hand, as her lips brushed a hairs breadth above it.

His voice was soft and gentle. It was a tone he used only with her. Even with victims, he spoke with a certain degree of detachment. Without opening her eyes, breathing him in, the scent of him, she said "I didn't want to hurt you."

He chuckled, somewhat bitterly. "You've been doing a great job."

"Yeah." She let out a shaky breath and opened her eyes. Reaching up, she took his hand from her cheek, but held it. Looking at him, his shadowed eyes, his mussed hair, smelling how he smelled faintly of beer but mostly just of what she associated as Nathan, Audrey held open her blanket. At his confused look she said, "40 degrees, remember? It's cold."

Knowing a gesture and an apology when they were presented to him on a silver platter, he smiled. It took a little maneuvering, but they managed to squeeze themselves into her chair, with Audrey curled in his lap while Nathan tucked the blanket around them around her, mostly. She felt so light, leaning against him. She'd lost weight, he knew. She rested her head on his shoulder and he threaded his fingers through her hair, lightly scratching her scalp. He swore she nearly started purring.

"What do you remember about Sarah?" he asked softly.

"Nothing," she replied. "I've gotten flashes of Lucy, but nothing of Sarah." Her hand rested on his chest, playing idly with the ring he wore on a chain around his neck. He'd told her how they'd been his father's. She'd wondered where Garland had gotten in, as it was so much like the one that Vince had given her, the one that had been Sarah's.

He frowned, "How much of Lucy do you remember?" Hearing her mention Lucy made him realize how much distance had grown up between them. He thought back to Halloween, the Holloway house, how ill she had looked. How he had chosen Jordan over her. The guilt of the memory shamed in, made him press his lips against the crown on her head in what he could only describe as supplication.

"I remember finding the Colorado Kid. I remembered being in the Holloway House with him. With..." She trailed off.

"With your son," he finished. He was still working that one over in his mind, for a number of reasons. "It hurts to remember, doesn't it?" He felt her pull back slightly to look at him. "Claire told me," he confessed. "I think she was doing it as a friend thing, not breaking doctor-patient privilege."

Audrey sighed. "First it was just headaches, a few nosebleeds. Then the flashbacks made me start to lose consciousness. Claire's concerned about seizures, brain bleeding."

So much he hadn't known, hadn't asked.  _The hard questions_ , he thought. The hard truths. "Do you want me to tell you what I know about Sarah?"

His fingers kept scratching her scalp lightly, and Audrey found herself thinking that having her head and hair stroked by Nathan Wuornos was better than truth serum if she were a cat, she was sure she'd be purring. Had Sarah felt this way?  _Don't feel jealous_ , she ordered herself. "Is there more you didn't tell me after you got back?"

She felt him stiffen, only for a second, and the rhythm of his hand in her hair faltered, skipped a beat. Something there, she thought.

He took a breath. "She was...strong, like you. Bossy." He smiled. "It seems some traits recur from personality to personality." Audrey slapped him lightly and he chuckled. "She liked to beat me up, too. When she caught me in Mosley's room, she dragged me out by my ear."

Audrey laughed lightly, and he thought it sounded like music. "Seriously?" she asked. She began drawing lazy patterns on his chest. "Could you feel was it? I mean, was she...?"

"She was you, Audrey. She came to Haven having been through a war, so she was carrying that with her, but...yeah, I could feel her." He paused, mentally biting his own lip. "I kissed her. Twice." He winced. "Three times."

The patterns she was drawing on his chest stopped and she went very still. When she didn't say anything, he rushed to continue. "Technically, we kissed each other, then I kissed her, then she kissed me." He frowned, thinking. "It was like before you went and saw the real Lucy Ripley, where you walked away from me, then came back and just...laid one on me." He said it to get a smile out of her, but she gave no response.

 _Three kisses_ , she thought. Oh yeah, you could definitely be jealous of yourself. "What happened?" she asked.

"We took a picnic, down on the beach," he said. "The beach where my dad...where he..." Nathan trailed off. "We had some sandwiches, some beer. I was explaining the Troubles to her." He squeezed her more tightly to him. "She told me that I was her first friend."

"At least you're consistent," she murmured, and the patterns on his chest resumed.

He sighed in relief, realizing he'd already grown accustomed to the feeling of it.  _This is why she was pushing me away_ , he thought. If they couldn't stop this, there wouldn't be any more cuddles under a blanket on a cold starry night. There won't be any more anything.

"What else did she tell you?" Audrey asked.

"We talked about her memories of the Korean War, about Moseley's story." He paused. "We talked about us - her and I, I mean. There was a connection. We both felt it. Or, I felt it the second I saw her and she felt it as soon as she was done being angry with me." He slanted her a glance. "Sound familiar?"

She looked up at him and gave him a deadpan look. "Anything else?"

"Yeah," he said thoughtfully. "We sat on the beach, drinking beers, looking out at the water, and she told me 'we have time.'" He smiled at the memory. "Just like that. 'We have time.'"

"'We have time,'" Audrey repeated in a detached voice. "We have time." She started feeling dizzy, painfully dizzy, and her head felt like an ice pick had been jabbed through it. "Wehavetime..." The words ran together as the darkness closed in around her. From far away, she heard Nathan calling her name. He might have shaken her. She tried talking to him, but he was too far away. She couldn't move, couldn't see. "We..."

And then the blackness took her.


	2. a soft place to land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Immediately follows Chapter One; timeline wise, we're still at the night Nathan and Duke got back from 1955 in "Sarah." I wrote this flashback well before "Thanks For the Memories" aired, and quite frankly, I like mine better, so I'm sticking with it. I did, however, borrow some "Sarah" dialogue for my own narrative purposes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Haven Friday!
> 
> Spoilers for all of Haven up through and including the end of S3, although this story does not follow exactly the storyline of S3. I've borrowed some episode dialogue where appropriate. One may also notice references to BSG, Doctor Who, Farscape, the Time Traveler's Wife, Buffy, The West Wing, various Nora Roberts novels, and anything else that's influenced me. The title of this piece comes from a line from John Green's book The Fault In Our Stars. Chapter title comes from the song "A Soft Place to Land" by Kathleen Edwards.
> 
> Haven belongs to SyFy, Sam and Jim, EOne Entertainment, etc. Thanks to everyone who responded so positively to the first chapter. Huge shout out to my dear LadyCallie for betaing everything I've written for the last 13 years. Also huge thanks to my MamaK, the venerable rutsky, who encouraged me to write this and who has been reading this piece throughout it's development.

_"You can't call a girl incredible and just walk away. Explain yourself." This man is looking at her like no one has ever looked at her in her life. Like he knows her, like she's the best thing he's seen all day. She can't remember anyone ever looking at her with such naked joy and affection._

_"I guess I do have some explaining to do." He looks sheepish, and adorable. He is handsome, rugged and lean. He holds himself like man who is used to having authority, to leading. He holds himself like a man who knows the weight, the burden that being a leader and having authority can bring. She finds that she wants to lighten his load._

_Sunlight, his smile. Rolling waves. Cold beer._

_"You don't need to be afraid of what you can't explain."_

_She takes his hand, squeezes it. "You're my first friend."_

_"I am." He is genuine, quiet. She trusts him, deeply, implicitly, absolutely. She doesn't know why, but she does. Her captain has always told her to trust her intuition. Her intuition is telling her to trust this man. So she does._

_She strokes his face. "There's something different about you." Her hand trails over his cheek and he closes his eyes. She watches him revel in her touch, as though he hasn't been touched in years. "You know what I learned on the front? That things could end at any minute. You have to take advantage of the time that you have. Do you believe that?" She feels eager, wanting. She can't stop touching him. She doesn't even know this man, but she_  does _. She knows him as he seems to know her. "So here I am on this beautiful beach with a handsome guy and all I can think of is 'we have time'."_

_She kisses him, but he is resistant, shy - ashamed? He turns from her. "I'm sorry. I should go." She watches him gather his coat, step away._

_She sighs, the pang of hurt deeper than she'd thought it would be, being rejected by someone she hardly knows. "Why do I always go for the shy ones?"_

_He smiles at her, like he is thinking about something. Unsure, she smiles back. As she watches him, he comes back to her -_  he comes back to her _\- and drops to his knees in the sand. He cradles her face in his hands and it is unlike any other first kiss she has ever experienced. He is gentle, but demanding. He already knows how to hold her, where to touch her. It seems he can't stop kissing her, touching her. She responds with equal fervor. They are exposed, she has been in this town a handful of hours and here she is, frolicking with a man she hardly knows on a public beach. Still, she cannot deny the wanting she has for him, the heat that shoots from her toes right out the top of her head._

_He kisses her neck and she clings to him, panting, feeling desperate and wanton and like she must have him now. "We can't," she rasps as he ravages her skin. "Not out here,"_

_"I know a place," he whispers._

_"Take me," she commands, kissing him deeply, meaning it in every way. Quickly, they gather up the blanket, leaving the beer and sandwiches behind. They run up the beach like drunks, like school children, hand in hand, smiling at each other, almost giggling. As soon as he pulls her inside the cave that is barely high enough for him to stand up in, she leaps at him, wrapping herself around him, wantonly, arms and legs. Hastily, he throws the blanket down on the damp sand and the next thing she knows she is on her back, the bodice and skirt of her dress bunched around her waist, and he is above her._

_"Are you sure?" In his eyes she briefly sees something, like he wants her to say no._

_"I'm sure." She all but purrs it. She's never wanted anything or anyone as desperately as she wants him right now. She wraps around her hand the chain he wears around his neck, pulls him down to her. "I'm sure," she whispers against his mouth. She pulls him down to her and trusts him._

_Loves him._

Nathan had never seen someone's eyes literally roll back in their head, but Audrey's had, violently. He felt her start to go slack in his arms, not in a falling-asleep way, but in that unmistakable way a person did when they were losing consciousness. She kept mumbling "Wehavetime," the words slurred until she went entirely silent and still. Her eyelids weren't quite all the way closed and he watched, horrified, as they fluttered, as the whites of her eyes moved back and forth rapidly. He couldn't tell if she was dreaming, or seizing. That she might be terrified him.

Her skin was whiter than he knew a living human's could be; he'd seen corpses with more color. Her lips were blue and a line of scarlet blood trickled from her nose. If he hasn't been holding her when she began to lose consciousness, her head would have snapped back violently. He had a vision of the force of it snapping her neck, and an icy sickness coated his belly.

"Parker!" His voice was hard, full of fear, but commanding, as though he was ordering her to respond. He shook her, not hard, but enough to try and get her to respond. "Audrey, can you hear me?" He felt for her pulse, sighed in relief when he felt it, thready and racing, but there. He could feel her chest rise and fall against his and knew she was breathing.

Delicately, and in one fluid motion, he scooped her up and stood. Momentarily, he was paralyzed by indecision. Did he call 911? Shout for Duke? He bumped the unlocked French doors to her apartment open with his hip and carried her inside. Her skin was like ice. He crossed her apartment in three long strides and gently laid her on the bed.

With one hand he snatched a tissue from a box on her nightstand and used it to wipe the blood from her face, while he yanked his cellphone from his pocket with the other. After dialing the number he wanted, he set it to speaker and tossed it on the nightstand. The call picked up on the third ring.

_"Dr. Callahan."_

"Claire," he barked. "I'm with Audrey," he hurried on, not allowing her to waste time with any pleasantries. "We were talking about Sarah and she collapsed. She's unconscious and pale, her lips are blue and she's bleeding from the nose." He reported it as though he were calling in from a scene, tried to let the cop side of himself rule while the part of him that was so stupid in love with Audrey he couldn't think straight, felt nothing but panic. For a second, he allowed the fear that threatened to choke him take its stranglehold. "Claire,  _what the fuck_?"

She heard the terror in his voice and forced herself to keep her own voice calm and professional.  _"Did she hit her head?"_

"No," he answered, using a fresh tissue to wipe the blood that wouldn't stop. It wasn't hemorrhaging, but it wasn't stopping either. "I...we were sitting together, and I caught her."

Claire sighed in relief. _"Okay, that's good. That's good. Is she seizing?"_

"How do I tell?" he snapped out, stroking Audrey's cheek, rubbing it, trying to get her to wake up.

_"She'd either be convulsing, visibly, or be stiff as a board."_

"No," he replied, relief flooding him. "She's...she looks like she's sleeping." He took a deep breath and willed himself to stay calm. "Her eyes are only half closed, which is...weird, but it looks like she's dreaming."

At home, Claire nodded.  _"Not a seizure. How long has she been unconscious?"_

Nathan glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand. "Less than five minutes."

_"Okay, that's not bad. She's had longer,"_  Claire said, almost absently, running possibilities in her head.

His heart damned near skipped a beat at her words. Goddammit. He had been so angry with her, had let her put something ugly between them that he'd missed how badly she had been hurting. What if she didn't wake up this time? "I'm going to call 911. I-"

Just then, Audrey let out a soft moan and squeezed her eyes shut. He watched her tongue dart out and lick her lips, her mouth slowly smacking as though it was parched. She took a large, almost heavy deep breath and began to stir.

"Parker," he said, his voice hushed. "Audrey, wake up. Come on back." He took one of her hands between his and began rubbing it vigorously to warm it. Her eyes began to flutter open, and he forgot all about Claire on the other end of the line.

_"Nathan?"_  The psychiatrist was shouting to get his attention.  _"Nathan! Is she awake?"_  When she received no answer, she said "I'm coming over." Letting the call disconnect, she shoved her feet into battered Uggs, grabbed a jacket and her car keys, and flew out the door.

Audrey's eyes opened slowly and immediately locked on to Nathan's. Then she winced and held a hand to her head. "Okay, ow." Her head was pounding, as though she had the worst hangover of her life. She cracked a weak smile. "Did you get the license plate of the truck that hit me?"

He gripped her hand, and the fist that had been choking him lessened its hold. "You passed out."

"Yeah," she drawled and struggled to sit up. "I've been doing that kind of a lot lately." As she sat up with his help, the room began to spin. She screwed her eyes shut and leaned back against the headboard, breathing deeply.

Nathan gave her a minute to relax. He stroked her arm, the inside of her wrist, her palm. She felt warmer, and her color was slowly, maddeningly slowly, starting to come back. "You still with me?" he asked gently. She was still so pale, but the nosebleed seemed to have stopped and her lips, while not their normal pink, at least weren't blue anymore.

"Yeah," she replied, eyes still shut. She wasn't sure if it was the fainting, the flashback, or the three beers but she felt like hell. "Can I have a glass of water please?"

He seemed reluctant to leave her, but he released her hand with a friendly squeeze and gently slid off the bed, so as not to jostle her. He was halfway back from the kitchen when her door flew open and Claire burst in, Duke hot on her heels.

Audrey's eyes popped wide open at the sound and Nathan's hand flew to the butt of his gun, which he'd only just realized he was still wearing.

Claire made a beeline for the bed and began checking Audrey's pulse and pupils.

Duke looked at Nathan, "I was closing up the Gull when Mario Andretti over here came gunning into the parking lot. I'm pretty sure she was out of the car before it stopped moving, and took the stairs two at a time." He cocked an eyebrow, all false bravado to smother the punch in the gut he felt at the sight of Audrey's ashen face. She was clearly in pain. "Didn't know you were a speed demon, Doc."

Ignoring him, Claire continued to fuss over Audrey.

"Nathan," Duke asked in low tones. "What the hell happened?"

Nathan handed Claire the glass of water, who passed it to Audrey with instructions to sip slowly. "We were talking out on the deck and she fainted."

"I didn't faint," Audrey protested. They weren't talking  _that_  quietly.

Claire arched one of her perfectly plucked brows. "And what would you call losing consciousness for five minutes, Detective Parker?"

Audrey crossed her arms across her chest. "'Fainting,'" she muttered. "It makes me sound like a character out of a Jane Austen novel," she grumbled.

"Actually, that'd probably be 'swooning,'" Duke quipped. "They all swoon." At Nathan's skeptical glance, he said, "What? I read."

Still mostly ignoring the men, Claire fixed her most stern, doctor-like look on her face. "I'm the doctor, you're the cop." Touching a hand to the glass, she gently urged Audrey to keep sipping the water. "If I say you fainted, you fainted."

Audrey rolled her eyes, then winced, before she could hide the hurt.

"How's the pain?" Claire asked.

Audrey sighed. "Now? About a 6." She watched Nathan stiffen and bristle when she mentioned still being in pain.

"How about when this little...episode started?"

Audrey cringed, knowing the looks she was going to get for her answer. "About a...9." She was right. Claire shot her a look that was somewhere between doctor and mom, while Duke looked sympathetic, if not a bit uncomfortable. Nathan, on the other hand, looked as though he wanted to keep her in a bubble for the rest of time; the expression on his face – concern, fear, relief she was awake – told her how he must have felt when she'd…lost consciousness. They'd have to talk about that, too.

"Get her some aspirin," Claire ordered one of the men, both of whom were standing around with their hands in their pockets, worried and utterly useless. They exchanged glances, as though each was waiting for the other to go.

Though it cost her, Audrey rolled her eyes at Claire, as the women shared an amused glance at the boys' expense.

"Duke," Claire suggested through clenched teeth, her voice dripping forced cheerfulness.

He snapped to attention. "Right." He pivoted smartly on his heel and made it about a step and a half before he paused. "Uh, where..."

"Bathroom, medicine cabinet, second shelf on the left," Audrey offered.

He snapped his fingers, flashed the women a cocky grin, and headed towards the bathroom.

"Nathan," Claire said, drawing his worried gaze away from Audrey. "Why don't you fix her a cup of herbal tea?"

He blinked. "Uh...ok." Like a rebuked little boy, he trudged towards the kitchen.

Returning from the bathroom having found his assigned treasure, Duke handed Claire a bottle of painkillers. She took it, then stared expectantly at him.

"What?" He asked cluelessly.

She made an over-exaggerated sideways glance towards the kitchen and then jerked her head in the same direction, in a manner that clearly said,  _Scram_.

"Right," he said, taking a deep breath. "I'll, uh, go help Nathan, make sure he doesn't accidentally set his sleeve on fire or something."

Claire waited for him to be out of earshot, which was barely doable in the apartment anyway. Passing Audrey three pills, she lowered her voice, just to be safe. "Ok, switching from doctor mode to friend mode for a minute. What exactly was happening here, before the fainting? I mean, it's after midnight, Nathan was here; you're clearly not working, since you're basically in your pajamas. I saw the beer bottles outside. Must have been some party."

"Most of that was me," Audrey confessed. "Having three probably didn't help matters once the flashback hit." She flitted her eyes towards the kitchen. "He just….showed up. He wanted to talk more about today."

Claire frowned. "What happened today?"

"Do you know Stuart Moseley?" Audrey asked.

Claire's eyes widened. "How far did he send him and in which direction?"

Audrey should have known Claire would know about Stuart's Trouble. "He sent Duke to 1955, for reasons I'm still not entirely clear on. Duke sent me a telegram, Nathan went to Stuart and ended up in 1955 himself and they met Sarah Vernon." In spite of everything, Audrey cracked a tiny smile. "Nathan said they were her first case."

"Nathan told me you'd been talking about Sarah when you collapsed," Claire said. "He called me once he couldn't get you to wake up." She heard cabinet doors opening and closing and decided to let the men hunt for the tea, to get a little more time to talk. "Still in friend mode, here. You guys were talking, though. About non-work related things. That's good."

Audrey frowned, "It's…I don't know what it is. Something happened with Sarah, in 1955. He told me something she said, and it sent me into the flashback. Whatever happened with her made him want to come work things out with me."

"Did you?" Claire asked. "Work things out?"

"Are you asking as my therapist or as my friend?"

"Both," Claire said, then whispered conspiratorially. "And we'll talk about it more later."

Nathan and Duke approached, Nathan carrying the tea as one would carry a water glass, his hand wrapped around the ceramic mug full of steaming hot liquid.

"You're going to hurt yourself," Audrey chided him as he set the cup on her nightstand.

Duke lightly slapped Nathan's shoulder in an _I told you so_  gesture. "See, I told him that. Did he listen to me? No."

"Imagine their shock and surprise," Nathan drawled. He frowned at Audrey. "Are you ok, Parker?" Before she could form an answer, he looked at Claire. "Is she going to be ok?"

Claire sighed. "I know it could be helpful if she remembers her pasts, but her brain clearly can't handle it."

"I can be more careful," Audrey piped in.

"How do you be careful with a memory?" Duke asked her.

"What do I need to do?" Nathan said to Claire, as though Audrey and Duke hadn't spoken. "Do we need to avoid talking about her past?"

"Buried memories are a tricky thing; you never know what's going to bring them out. So far a necklace, glancing in a mirror, a sentence – they're fairly innocuous things, but they've all been triggers." She frowned. "I haven't figured out how to predict what will set her off."

"What could happen if these flashbacks get worse? She said you were worried about seizures."

"She is sitting right here," Audrey muttered, sipping her tea. They had made her a spicy cinnamon tea she'd gotten for the holidays, before she'd known about the Hunter. Not exactly soothing, she thought, and set the cup down again.

"I'm afraid she's going to die," Claire said bluntly. She could see in Nathan's eyes not only a deep concern, but a kind of steely determination. She could tell that he was on to Audrey and, if she were a betting woman, Claire would say that the Chief of Police wasn't going to let his partner get away with it anymore. She wondered which bond would be stronger, the bond between partners, or the bond between a man and a woman who loved each other, even though they were often too deeply stubborn and stupid to do anything about it. "I don't think her brain, her body, can handle the stress of remembering so much about her past lives. If it had been coming in spurts, ever since she arrived in Haven, that'd be one thing. But she's been getting…a huge download of memories for the last two months. "

"Her brain's like a computer without enough gigs?" Duke asked. "It can't handle the info-dump?"

"So now I have a slow, tiny brain?" It came out petulantly, as Audrey had intended it to.

Claire patronizingly patted Audrey's hand. "Something like that, yeah."

"Okay, well, the tea and aspirin have worked and I'd like for my fainting, tiny brained self who apparently isn't allowed to speak for herself, to get some sleep."

"Sure," Duke said, almost apologetically. "We'll let you get some rest" He handed Claire the coat she'd cast off on the dash to Audrey. "Doc, can I just say…nice PJs."

For the first time, it seemed that Claire realized what she was wearing. She looked down at herself and blushed.

"I mean, I wasn't going to say anything about it," Duke continued, smirking rakishly. "But, purple puppies?"

"I think it's adorable," Audrey said with a grin.

"Purple's a good color on you," Nathan interjected, cracking a small grin.

Claire looked down at her lavender flannel pajamas with the dark purple puppy pattern and the ancient and stained brown Uggs she'd jammed on her feet on her way out the door. "Look, Nathan called and said Audrey had fainted. I wasn't exactly going to change into one of my power suits before I came over."

"No, really, it's a good look," Duke teased as Nathan ushered them for the door. "You should make all your house calls in lounge wear."

"Make sure she gets some rest," Claire said quietly to Nathan as they stepped outside.

"I will," he promised.

"You're not going anywhere, right?" she asked.

Nathan huffed out a breath and shot Duke a warning glare. "I'm staying here."

Claire smiled, for several reasons. "Good. One piece of advice? Maybe hold off on telling her any more of your Back to the Future adventures for tonight. Give her a chance to get her strength back."

"Will do," he said, and stepped back inside before Duke could get a snide comment in.

"You don't have to stay," Audrey said as he flipped the locks on her door. He shot her a similar warning glare to the one he'd given Duke, then moved around the apartment in silence, systematically checking the locks on her windows, making sure the stove was off, turning off most of the lights. Without saying a word, he picked up the bloody tissues he'd tossed on the floor by her bed while she'd been unconscious. As he leaned over to toss them in a wastebasket, she grabbed his hand, tugging lightly to pull him down to sit on the bed. "Hey," she said softly. "I'm ok."

He raked a hand through his hair. He didn't know if he'd ever get the image of her, corpse-pale and blue lipped, out of his head. She had terrified him. "Jesus Parker," he said gruffly, putting his arms around her and burying his face in her hair. He felt her arms slide around him, felt through the thin fabric of his shirt one of her hands glide slowly up and down his back. Her other hand threaded its fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. She scratched her nails lightly on his scalp.

"I'm okay," she whispered again.

"You scared the crap out of me," he admitted without shame. "Its my fault."

"Nathan," she said in a tone of voice that resembled one used when scolding a piddling puppy. "You heard Claire. We don't know what sets off the flashbacks."

"Still, I'm sorry. I didn't know—" He couldn't help but wonder what else he had missed. His plan to go undercover in the Guard to protect her had the major flaw of adding to the wedge that had come between them.

"I know." He hadn't known because she hadn't wanted him too. As had become her habit lately, she'd been keeping it from him. So many secrets, so many little deaths. Not enough time. She picked up his hand and held it. "Nathan, I need to tell you about what I remembered while I was out."

"Not tonight, Parker."

"But Nathan—"

"Doc's orders," he replied. "Besides, we have t…shit." He wondered if he'd forever now feel the need to avoid the phrase, for fear of sending her into convulsions with it. He tried to smile. "We can talk about it later. You need to sleep."

He began fussing over her, getting her to lie down. She half expected him to start clucking like a mama hen. Once he was satisfied she was settled, he flipped off her bedside lamp. "Goodnight Parker." He pressed his lips chastely to her forehead, and then began to move away from here.

She frowned. "Where are you going?"

He looked confused. "I was gonna…sleep on the couch, if that's okay." He said it as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, and she was a slightly dim five year old.

She smiled to herself and, because it was dark, rolled her eyes in amusement. "Nathan, it's not okay. At the risk of moving things along too quickly when we haven't even really worked anything out yet…" She patted the bed beside her. "Get over here."

He stood, seemingly frozen, glued to the floor as he considered her request. He knew she meant just sleep – tonight, anyway. He thought about how only hours earlier, and decades earlier, all at the same time, he'd been lying with Sarah on a blanket in a secluded part of the beach. They did need to talk about it, talk about what happened, what she remembered. He just wanted to be able to have the conversation without getting his own flashback to the memory of Audrey's cold, seemingly dead form, cradled limply in his arms. Sighing, he toed off his shoes and began pulling off his socks.

Her eyes adjusting to the dark, she watched him disrobe, finding it an entirely pleasurable viewing experience. As he reached for the button of his jeans, she decided to mess with him a little bit. "I guess I'm about to find out the answer to the immortal question – boxers or briefs." She didn't have to see him in the light to know she'd made him blush. She grinned. "Sorry, am I offending your sensibilities?"

He chose not to dignify her teasing with a response, merely stripped out of his jeans and left them in a heap on top of his shoes. In short order, he was standing in his shorts and a T shirt, in the dark, in the middle of her apartment and feeling completely ridiculous. Somehow he was actually nervous. Sarah had asked about his scars. Audrey had never seen them or felt them, the map of pockmarks on his back, scars from Duke's little trick when they were kids. He had other scars, incurred on the job, gotten while being careless doing work around the house or on his car – he usually didn't even notice he'd done anything until someone else pointed the blood stains out to him.

"Nathan," she said softly. "Are you ok?"

_This beautiful woman you're in love with is asking you into her bed and you're standing there like an idiot, afraid she won't find you pretty enough?_  He could practically hear Duke's voice in his head.  _Put on your big girl panties and get over there._

"Yeah," he answered her. "I'm coming." He faltered. "I mean, I'm—"

She laughed, and again he thought it sounded like music. "I know what you meant." She smiled at him. "It's late. Come to bed."

They were such simple sentences, said so casually, as though this were any other night and them sharing a bed was a regular occurrence. He was staggered by her. He'd wondered if they'd ever get to a point like this. Now, here they were, and she was smiling at him as though the evening had been filled with less eventful things. No time travel and past lives and collapsing from memory overload. Just two people going to bed, together. Just him and Audrey.

He returned her smile and slipped beneath the covers. He slid an arm under her shoulders and she rolled against him, throwing a leg over his and resting her head on his chest. Her hair tickled his nose and her breath was warm on his skin. It seemed so natural, so normal, to be lying together like this. Like they did it every night.

"I'm sorry I scared you," she whispered.

"It's okay," he replied, his fingers idly playing with her hair.

"No," she said, pushing up on an elbow to look at him. "I'm sorry for – for how I've been the last few…"

"Months?" he finished, a smirk quirking at his lips as he got some of his own back after her earlier teasing.

She stuck her tongue out at him and dramatically flopped over onto her back, shutting her eyes. Immediately he missed the contact. Rolling to his side to look at her, he asked "Hey Parker?"

"Mmmm?"

"Is that my shirt?"

"Maybe." A beat, eyes still closed. "You're not getting it back."

He grinned and rolled onto his back. Reaching down under the covers he searched for her hand, grasping it when he found it. "That's okay. It looks better on you anyway."

In the dark, she smiled, squeezed his hand once, and then they both slipped into sleep.


	3. take me home to my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Audrey and Nathan try to decompress after the stress of Burned and finding the BGK's lair. Audrey is haunted by the weight of all she knows and all she's seen, and Nathan just wants to help. Complicating matters, there's still the discussion to be had about what Audrey learned from her latest flashback. 
> 
> (This chapter takes place in between "Burned" and "Last Goodbyes", but after the flashbacks from post-"Burned" that are in "Last Goodbyes", if that makes sense ;-))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: Spoilers for all of Haven up through and including the end of S3, although this story does not follow exactly the storyline of S3. I've borrowed some episode dialogue where appropriate. One may also notice references to BSG, Doctor Who, Farscape, the Time Traveler's Wife, Buffy, The West Wing, various Nora Roberts novels, and anything else that's influenced me. The title of this piece comes from a line from John Green's book The Fault In Our Stars. Chapter title comes from the song "Shattered" by Trading Yesterday. Haven belongs to SyFy, Sam and Jim, etc. Thanks to all the Havenites on Tumblr who continue to give me such great support, as well as all the reviewers here and at FF.net. Huge shout out to my dear LadyCallie for betaing everything I've written for the last 13 years. Also huge thanks to my MamaK, the venerable rutsky, who encouraged me to write this and who has been reading this piece throughout it's development.
> 
> To the FF.net reviewer who asked about how come I haven't posted the entire story all in one go: the answer is this - A) it's not quite finished yet. I wrote the last two chapters first, and then started with the "Sarah" episode and have been writing my way forward. I'm also not writing them in order, necessarily, just as the ideas hit me. For example, the epilogue is mostly finished, and I finished chapter ten yesterday, but chapter nine is still only about a third written. B) I want to write a sequel to this and I'd like to get going on it as soon as everything for this piece is finished. Parceling out the chapters gives me more time. Think of the chapters as episodes. During the season, we only get one Haven ep a week. I'm posting them on Fridays to keep the Haven Friday's going. :)

They drove in strained silence through the dusky night. Neither of them spoke as he maneuvered the old Bronco along the unlit road back to town. Nathan found the silence unnerving, especially after what they had found, what they had been through that day. Ginger, Jordan, the Guard, interrogating their closest to suss out a killer. The stench of the old cannery, full of death and gore and horror, filled his nostrils.

He stole a glance at her and saw that she sat rigid, back straight, eyes staring blankly out the window. He wondered if she even registered what she was seeing through the windshield. He hoped she wasn't replaying the horror show of skins floating in aquariums, the fear as to whose skin belonged in the empty tank, whose charred body they'd yet to find. Was she trying to figure out whose face was worn by such a monster? A monster who could murder women and use them for parts, like they were old cars. The mass grave they'd found under the deck of the cannery had been another horror. Bodies well preserved by the cold, one woman missing her lips, adding another part to Frankenstein's monster. He had been filled with such rage, as he always was when they came across innocent victims. But he found that the deepest parts of his rage came from the idea that this animal had held Audrey, was still after Audrey.

He took one hand off the steering wheel and reached for hers. Grasping it, he found her skin chilled. He could feel her trembling. "Hey," he said gently. When she didn't look at him, he squeezed her hand, pulling at her a slightly. "Parker? Talk to me."

Slowly she turned her head too look at him. Her ravaged eyes met his as he flicked his gaze back and forth between her and the road. "What are we gonna do, Nathan?" She heaved out a breath. "I can't get that place out of my mind. I can feel it crawling on my skin. I'm covered in it." She began rubbing at her arm.

He steered the car through the night. "We're going to find him," he promised.

"Or her," she corrected. "The Bolt Gun Killer could be anyone. The woman at the bank; the guy who pumps your gas. What if its someone we think we know? How do we find out whose face he's wearing, whose life he stole? I didn't want him to one of our circle, but it made the most sense, y'know?"

"I know."

She darted her eyes at him, "Are we ok? I mean because I had to question you." She flushed. "I knew it wasn't you, since-"

He tried to smile reassuringly. "Since we've spent nearly every waking and sleeping minute together since I got back from 1955?"

"Yeah, that," she replied wryly. She took a deep breath. "I haven't mentioned...this, us, to anyone." At his silence, she hurried on, suddenly nervous she'd upset him. "I'm not trying to hide it, or anything. I just want to keep it private." Still no response. "Besides, you've already got a target painted in your back, just for being my friend. If the Killer knew that we were...more than just partners..."

"I get it, Parker," he said calmly. "I haven't told anyone either." Then again, who would he tell and why? It wasn't as though he went spreading his personal business all over town.

"I don't want anything else to happen to you," she whispered.

"Nothing else will," he promised, even though Nathan knew he was lying. He had no business promising that, just as the chief of police in Troubletown, USA. More so though, he would do anything to protect her, even if it cost him his life. One of his major concerns was that he knew she felt the same way, and he was terrified his father's words would come true.

_She'll take risks for you, and we can't have that._

_You're wasting your time._

His own words echoed in his ears. He and Audrey would figure everything out, together. "I meant what I said, at the cannery. We will be ready for him, whoever he turns out to be." He squeezed her hand, trying to reassure her. He could see that the days events, Jordan's admission if the Guard's plan to use him to get Audrey into The Barn, that they were going to use a little girl to do it, was rough enough. Then, to find the workshop of a madman - or woman - who had killed so many people and had kidnapped her was not exactly a good end to a terrible day.

"How do we prepare, though, for a killer who can wear anyone's face?" She wondered aloud, wearily. "He can be anyone, at any time."

"We can't start second guessing everyone we come across," he said reasonably, wanting her to think it through. He'd never known her to panic, but what he had been told by Claire, by Jordan, reluctantly by Duke, about Audrey's behavior while he had been dead, her single-minded, ruthless determination to bring him back at any cost, had let him know how far recent events had pushed her. She was always determined, stubborn, wanted to do what was right, but he wondered if even Audrey Parker's nerves of steel were starting to fray at the eyes.

"We didn't know who it was before, we don't know who it is now," he pointed out. "But we know its a Skinwalker, which is more than we knew this morning."

She nodded, thinking now. "We should go back to the station, start researching."

He shook his head. "Tomorrow, Parker." When he saw her open her mouth to protest, he cut her off. "Stan's got the place under surveillance, in case the Killer is dumb enough to go back. We only went back because Lucchesi wanted to show us what else he found. Otherwise I would have sent you home hours ago." At her dark look, he had the sense to wince. "All I'm saying is he'll call us if he finds more evidence."

"Or more bodies," she mumbled, her voice bitter and angry and terrified.

"Or more bodies," he conceded. "But we're getting closer. We're going to stop them. I know we will."

She sighed, "I just wish I knew what they wanted, why they're after the Colorado Kid."

"I know," he said softly. So many mysteries, so little time left. They needed to stop the Bolt Gun Killer and find a way to keep Audrey in Haven. He needed to find a way to keep her with him. He wanted tonight, though. He wanted some beauty after a terrible day.

Audrey glanced at the landscape going by her window. "Where are we going?"

He took a deep breath, held it. "My place."

He heard her draw in a breath, let it out. They were making such progress, and he didn't want her to start backing away from him again. They didn't have much time. He had to believe that he would find a way, that they would find a way. But if they didn't, he didn't want to lose a single precious second with her. Duke may have been okay with the fact that her leaving might stop the Troubles, but Nathan was far from okay with it.

"Okay," she replied. He snapped his head around to look at her and Audrey saw the relief wash over his face. She gave him a big smile, to wash away any lingering doubts. "That sounds good."

Giving in to a whim, she undid her seatbelt and slid across the bench seat, tucking her legs up underneath her. When he glanced at her curiously, she nudged his shoulder gently. Nathan lifted his arm and she ducked underneath it, curling against him. She took a deep breath as she rested her head between his shoulder and chest and inhaled his scent, all sweat and the soap he used and coffee and him. It banished the stale, moldy, chemically scent of the cannery that had lingered for hours. She closed her eyes and let him surround her.

This man was a marvel. All quiet and stubborn and determined. Protective and heroic, though he'd grudgingly admit to the former and might even blush at the latter. He'd always believed in her, always been there for her, nearly from the moment they met. She didn't know if there had ever been anyone in her lives, in her real or borrowed memories that had ever been for her what Nathan was. Partner, best friend, someone she could completely trust, someone who had her back no matter what. Someone who loved her. She knew that he did, had known for a while. She couldn't remember when, exactly, she's first realized he was in love with her. Maybe it had been when he'd given her the piece of paper with Lucy Ripley's address on it. Maybe earlier than that, when he had gone with her to try and find out what had happened to the other Audrey. Or when she woke up on her birthday after they'd pulled her out of a steamer trunk and she'd seen him cry in relief.

_It's that partner of yours_ , Jordan had said. _You're never going to get over her, are you?_

Audrey hadn't been eavesdropping, exactly. But what she had heard, what Jordan had said, was just what Audrey had been fearful of. So little time until the Hunter and no solutions in sight. She was going back to his house with him. She couldn't help but feel a little guilty, like she was harming him by acting on their feelings. _How ridiculous is that?_  she thought.

She felt him absently kiss the top of her head and a warmth spread through her like sliding into a warm bath. Since the night she'd collapsed and he slept in her bed, there had been lots of moments like this, casual and affectionate, but always when they were alone or hidden from prying eyes. A hand trailing down her back as they poured over paperwork or evidence; a playful tug of her hair; holding her hand under a table at the Gull as they had a few drinks.

Similarly, she'd caught herself playing with his hair, especially where it met his neck; or lightly trailing her fingertips over his bare arm when his shirt-sleeves were rolled up, from his wrist to elbow and back again; making sure their fingertips brushed when she took or handed him his coffee. Now, in response to his kiss, she nuzzled his neck, brushing her nose against the skin and a day's growth of stubble, her breath ghosting over his skin. She heard his breath catch and she grinned wickedly.

Testing, teasing, she nipped at his jaw, her teeth scraping lightly over flesh and bone.

He grunted. "Audrey." His voice was gruff and his breath quickened.

"Hmm?" she replied innocently, trailing her nails back and forth over his denim-covered thigh, as far towards his knee as she could reach and then back up towards her.

"Distracting a person while they're operating a motor vehicle is a Class A misdemeanor." He tried sounding authoritative, but missed by miles. While it wasn't the same as skin-to-skin contact, he had a slight sensation of her caressing his leg and it was massively distracting.

"So call the cops," she whispered saucily in his ear, her breath hot on his skin. He shivered.

"Seriously," Nathan said with a shaky laugh. "I'm going to drive us off the road if you keep this up." She let out a playful huff and he grinned at her. "But hold that thought."

She smiled up at him, "Yes sir." It was a joy to feel normal, to have this easy, playful flirtation with the man she loved. She'd told him as much, a few weeks ago. Unfortunately he'd still been dead at the time.

Theirs was a strange life.

"Can I take a bath, when we get to your house?" She asked. "I mean, I can feel that place clinging to me, and I...I just want to feel clean again."

"Sure," he said, doing a quick mental review of his bathroom's state of cleanliness. He wasn't a neat freak, but he didn't like to live in squalor, either. He kissed the top of her head again as he pulled the Bronco into the driveway of his house. A three story brickwork Queen Anne Victorian, he'd bought it five years ago and had slowly been restoring it, modernizing it.

He regrettably had to let her go to put the car in park and take the key out of the ignition. She smiled tiredly at him as he got out of the car, and then slid out of the drivers side door after him. Holding his hand out to her, Nathan took Audrey's and led her up the path of flagstones he had laid on a hot summer's day, up the steps he'd rebuilt, onto the porch he had planned to stain and seal before the weather turned. He was running out of time to do that.

_Running out of time for a lot of things_ , he thought as he turned the key in the lock of the restored antique front door and led her inside.  _No_ , he told himself. Tonight was not for bad thoughts, bad memories, not for panic or fears.

She shut the door behind them and flipped the lock as he tossed his keys in a basket that sat on a nearby table. They stood in the foyer, staring at each other in the easy silence of the house. In a move so fast that her cop senses barely registered what was happening until it was too late, he had her pinned against the wall, her wrists trapped over her head by his hands as his mouth ravaged hers.

Her kissing him all those months ago had been impulsive and gleeful. This kiss was all about wants and needs, taking what they'd denied themselves for a long time. Once the initial shock wore off she met him, challenged him, returned the kiss with equal fervor. Why? Why had she denied herself this? Why, especially when she knew her time was limited? She tasted the flavors and textures of his mouth, felt what he was giving her and knew she could say it now, that it wasn't too late. They'd been given a second, and then a third chance. She'd have said it right then, but her mouth was otherwise occupied.

Just as suddenly as he'd pounced on her, he pulled away and took a full step back, leaving them both panting. A satisfied grin bloomed on his face. " _That_  was for distracting my driving."

Audrey laughed, full throated and joyous, her head thrown back. "Oh god, Nathan." The laughs kept coming, bubbling up from a place deep inside her that she thought she'd lost. She reached out, grabbed his hand to support herself until the laughs subsided. It felt good to laugh, most especially after all of the shit they'd been through that day. "God," she said, her laughs slowing down as she looked into his smiling face. "God, do I love you."

Her mouth wasn't otherwise occupied now, and she didn't want to let another moment go by. She searched his face for some sign she'd been wrong about what she thought she knew ofhis feelings for her. When he let out a breath and dropped his forehead to hers in a gesture so tender it made her sigh, she knew she hadn't been wrong.

"Audrey," he said, murmuring her name like a prayer. "Say it again."

She smiled with a quiet confidence. "I love you."

He brushed his lips over hers, a kiss gentle as butterfly wings, soft as a summer rain drop. "I love you." There was something remarkably freeing, having it out in the open, saying it to each other, having it returned. Even with so much uncertainty, and lately so much death around them, there was something about being able to acknowledge what they'd kept to themselves, even if just to each other that seemed to bring a light into their lives.

Playfully, he hip-checked her. "Now, go take a bath. If you want, I'll throw your clothes in the washer."

She quirked an eyebrow, "I'm going to turn into a prune before they're dry."

While he intended for her to not need any clothes for a while, he merely said, "I'll dig something out for you to wear."

Suspicious, she slowly said, "Okaaaay."

He smiled innocently. "Top of the stairs, third door on your right. Linen closet is behind the door."

With a salute and a quick, impulsive kiss, Audrey turned and headed up the sturdy wooden stairs with the ornately carved rails. The house really was gorgeous, and much larger than she'd expected him to have. She could tell he was in the process of restoring it, but it seemed as though he'd done a fair bit of work. The house felt old, but he seemed to be caring for it; it updated in a way that seemed to respect what the house had originally been. She wouldn't have pegged him as the weekend home-repair type, but there was a certain sense about it - that he respected the past, that he was trying to turn something run down into something beautiful.

Following his instructions, she pushed open a door to find a surprisingly well equipped and well maintained bathroom. She had genuinely anticipated needing to give the tub a quick scrub down - this was his bachelor pad, after all. Things tended to be cliches because there was a truth about them. While it didn't gleam, it was clean and spartan, with white subway tiled walls, a deep pedestal sink, black and white tiled floor, and stall shower and a giant claw foot tub in front of a frosted window that faced his backyard. She was fairly certain she could swim laps in the gleaming cast iron and porcelain tub.

Turning on the chrome taps, she set the tub to fill and sat down on the toilet seat lid to take off her shoes and socks. The tile was cool on her bare feet, but it made her feel grounded, as though for the first time all day she knew what she was about, where she was. She was in Nathan's bathroom, about to take a hot bath. That was certainly something. She disrobed, removing her grey shirt, badge and gun, purple tank, tights and jeans, until finally she was standing in boy shorts and a bra as the sound of water filling the tub echoed throughout the room.

Giving in to curiosity, she rummaged through his medicine cabinet - toothpaste, shaving cream, aftershave, a razor and toothbrush. A toothpick, a marble, a dime. Antiseptic ointment, bandages, an expired prescription for antibiotics. No painkillers of any kind - he hadn't needed any for a while. In search of a wash cloth and maybe something that she could use as bubble bath, she scoped out the linen closet next.

Three sets of towels in navy, gray, and red sat neatly folded on one shelf. On another shelf, an unopened package of toilet paper, another of paper towels, more bandages. On the bottom shelf, jackpot. A cellophane-covered basket of what appeared to be one of those bath and body gift sets you could buy at the drugstore for a last minute present. Given the thin layer of dust in the cellophane, Audrey imagined he'd gotten it some years ago and had forgotten about it.

Retrieving her prize, she tore into the plastic and selected the body wash. "Mountain Man," the bottle read. "Sure, why not," she murmured, and made quick work of dumping half the bottle into the tub. Testing the temperature, she dipped her hand in the water and mixed up the soap. A bit too hot. She cranked up the cold just as she heard a knock at the door that made her yelp in surprise.

"You okay in there?" Nathan called from the other side of the door.

"Um," she began, suddenly feeling utterly exposed. "Yeah, I'm good."

On the other side of the door, he grinned. "Can I grab your clothes for the wash?"

"In a sec," she replied, scrambling out of her bra and panties. She shoved them in the middle of the pile of clothes, then climbed to the bath. Now it was too cold under the tap, and still hot far away from it. Under the water, she tried mixing the temperate zones with her hands. On a sigh, she turned off the taps and settled under the thick blanket of bubbles. "Come on in."

Slowly, the door opened. As he stepped through, she saw that he had a hand clamped over his eyes. She laughed. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I figured you might want some privacy." He crouched, his free hand groping the floor in search of clothes he wouldn't be able to feel.

"Nathan," she said with a small giggle. "Uncover your eyes." She loved him for so obviously trying to take it slow, to not push things faster than they were going to go. As it was, this level of intimacy - her in his bath, him doing her laundry - was something she thought might bring a flutter of panic to her belly. Instead, it just felt right.

His hand slowly dropped from his face, revealing his eyes scrunched tightly shut.

"Open your eyes, Nathan," she said again softly, her voice inviting and casual, as though it was a common occurrence for him to find her naked in his bathtub. His face relaxed and he slowly opened his eyes. He drank in the sight of her, submerged up to her shoulders in water and bubbles, her hair still in the day's ponytail. He could practically see the stress ebbing out if her as she soaked. The tension that had been in her face nearly all day was gone.

He crossed to the tub and crouched beside it. Cupping her jaw, rubbing his thumb on her soft and damp cheek, he drew her face towards him and kissed her gently. He heard her make a sound of pleasure in the back of her throat and smile against his mouth as she responded in kind. Their kiss downstairs had been fiery, possessive, full of months of restrained need. When he kissed her now, Nathan only wanted her to know he loved her, to feel the promise of something more, hinting at what he hoped might happen later.

Ending the kiss, he pulled his face a few inches from hers. "Where'd you find bubble bath?"

Audrey gestured towards the basket in the sink. "I improvised."

Frowning, he searched his memory. "I think I got that in the station's Yankee Swap my first year out of the academy. Think it was Laverne's contribution."

She smiled, "Remind me to thank Laverne."

He brushed a few strands of hair back from her face and kissed her lightly. "Let me throw your clothes in, and I'll be right back." He stood, stopped. "Assuming you want some company."

"Company would be good." She met his eyes, felt something pass between them and knew that from here on out, everything would be different. He scooped up her clothes and pulled the bathroom door shut behind him. He'd left her badge and gun on the back of the toilet, where she'd put them. It was a cop thing, not touching another cop's gear without being asked. It was also a reminder, subtly, perhaps even unconsciously, that they weren't completely safe, not even here. Not while the Bolt Gun Killer was still out there.

Audrey huffed out a sigh and tugged her hair from the elastic that had been securing her ponytail all day. No bad thoughts tonight, no work tonight. Tonight was to relax, to feel normal. To be with Nathan, in whatever ways felt right. If they didn't solve a centuries old mystery in the next few days, along with their newer mystery, this time next week she would be gone. Nathan loved her, wanted to be with her, even knowing she would disappear and that when he saw her again, she wouldn't know who he was. She was going to be with him now, for as long as she had left. They'd wasted too much time already.

Wasted time with anger, with being shy and uncertain, with not saying the things they knew to be true. She needed to tell him what she remembered about being Sarah. what she knew. There couldn't be any more secrets between them. She felt a pang in her stomach, a deep dread she had been feeling ever since she had woken up from her flashback. How would he react? "Hi honey, we have a kid, but he's older than you are."  _That should go over well._  While she knew it took two to tango, and Sarah had lived before the invention of The Pill, there was something deeply weird about having a child you never knew about with the past self of the woman you loved.

"Just tell him, Parker," she scolded herself. With a frustrated sigh, Audrey sank below the surface of the bathwater and tried to find some peace and courage in the stillness.

Having set her clothes to wash, along with some laundry he'd accumulated, Nathan rummaged about the kitchen, trying not to dwell on how normal it all felt, how miraculous. A long day of work behind them, the woman he loved upstairs in the bath, laundry rumbling gently in the basement - domesticity, normality, love. He set a wine glass on the counter, pulled a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and a bottle of beer from the fridge, smiling to himself. Audrey Parker loved him, had said it out loud.

He'd never told a woman he'd loved her before. In high school, in college, at the academy, living as a police officer in Haven, he'd come close a few times. There had been women, naturally. He'd only become something of a monk since the latest round of the Troubles had started. He'd tried with Jess, and to a certain extent with Jordan.

Pouring wine for Audrey, his expression darkened. Jordan. Her name, the image of her face, brought up a mix of anger, regret, and guilt. In another time, maybe there might have been something. They might've at least been friends. But he'd been exploiting her Trouble with his own, to get her to trust him, to get into the Guard. Whatever she had done, however she had lied to him, betrayed the genuine trust he'd given her, his motives had never been pure where Jordan and the Guard were concerned. The only purity there had been was his overwhelming desire to protect Audrey. It seemed a single, all consuming drive, nearly a biological imperative; to keep her safe, to keep her here with him.

She was here with him now, and he was determined to make the most of every moment. He was determined to keep her in Haven, had to believe he would find a way. Still, he saw no reason to put things off any longer.

Tucking under his arm the sweatpants and t-shirt he'd pulled from the dryer for her, he picked up the wine and beer and turned to leave the kitchen. His eyes spotted the fedora he'd purchased fifty five years ago, that he'd purchased last week. He needed to tell her all of what had happened with Sarah on the beach. He couldn't keep it from her, not any more. Would she feel betrayed, angry? Would she be happy? They'd only half an hour ago admitted to each other they were in love. It was a big leap from that to "I think we have a kid and if he's still alive, he's roughly the same age as his adopted grandfather." If that didn't send her, at the very least, into another flashback, he would be amazed. He was terrified of Claire's prediction of seizures, of possible death. How could he tell her what he needed to tell her when any mention of her past might kill her? Jesus, this was fucked up.

He forced himself to take deep breaths. They didn't know what about her past would and wouldn't trigger her. Maybe there was some way to find her memories without her passing out, or worse. There was too much at stake: their personal future, the town's, maybe even lives. Somehow killing women for parts and killing people for skin tied in to finding James Cogan, something that Lucy had insisted needed to be done before The Hunter. Had Lucy and James faked his death? And if so, why?

The answers were out there, Nathan knew. They just had to find them. Resolving to find a way to talk to Audrey about Sarah, about the Colorado Kid without sending her into convulsions, Nathan began walking up the stairs towards his second floor.

 


	4. breathe me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Audrey and Nathan discuss the events of "Sarah"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for all of Haven up through and including the end of S3, although this story does not follow exactly the storyline of S3. I've borrowed some episode dialogue where appropriate. One may also notice references to BSG, Doctor Who, Farscape, the Time Traveler's Wife, Buffy, The West Wing, various Nora Roberts novels, and anything else that's influenced me. The title of this piece comes from a line from John Green's book The Fault In Our Stars. Chapter title comes from the song "Breathe Me" by Sia. Haven belongs to SyFy, Sam and Jim, etc. Thanks to all the Havenites on Tumblr who continue to give me such great support, as well as all the reviewers here and at AO3. Huge shout out to my dear LadyCallie for betaing everything I've written for the last 13 years. Also huge thanks to my MamaK, the venerable rutsky, who encouraged me to write this and who has been reading this piece throughout it's development.
> 
> Second Note: Aside from all the swearing, this the chapter that got me the M rating. :)
> 
> Continuity note: This chapter immediately follows the previous one, which takes place in between "Burned" and "Last Goodbyes", but after the flashbacks from post-"Burned" that are in "Last Goodbyes", if that makes sense ;-)

He found her staring out his bathroom window, clearly lost in thought. Her hair was undone from the day's ponytail, and hung about her head, wet and wavy. Nathan thought, fancifully, that she looked like a fairy queen, all dewy and damp, her face bare and fresh, her pale shoulders rising above the lake of bubbles. She looked almost relaxed, but not enough. _Something on her mind_ , he thought.

"Brought you some wine," he murmured, to get her attention. She turned her face, makeup free and beautiful, towards him and gave him a small smile.

"Thank you," she said, holding out a hand to him to accept the wine. Their fingertips brushed and she saw the sensation light up his eyes. She found that she couldn't quite meet his eyes, couldn't quite keep her gaze locked with his, out of nerves. Feeling anxious and weary, she took a healthy sip of the wine, barely tasting the flavor. Knowing he was watching her, she smiled thankfully, watching him through the curtain of her wet hair as he sat beside the tub, facing her.

She looked apprehensive, he thought, stretching long leg out in front of him, the other bent at the knee, his bare foot on the floor. Taking her damp hand lightly in his, he threaded their fingers together, arms resting in the edge of the tub. He gently rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. "What is it?" he asked softly.

She rested the cool, sweating wine glass against her forehead and closed her eyes, focusing on the sensation of him touching her. "I--" She faltered. "I think we should talk about the things I remembered about being Sarah during my last flashback."

"Yeah.” He took a pull of his beer.  “I was thinking about what I still haven't told you." He chuckled lightly to himself. "Great minds, huh?" When he barely got a weak grin out of her, he sat up straighter. "Are you worried it might trigger another flashback?"

"No." Shaking her head, Audrey sent water droplets flying around the room. She took another sip of the wine. She'd promised herself that she would be more honest with him, that she would share more with him. "I'm afraid what I have to say might upset you."

Nathan set his beer bottle down on the cold tile, and the glass sang out a quiet note. "Same here." At her frown, he pressed their palms together, examined their joined hands. Her hand was smaller than his, but they fit together, he thought, oddly please that they didn't look disproportionate.

"Because of what Claire said?" Audrey's eyes fixed on the skin of Nathan's right open, exposed by rolled up shirt sleeves. Some steam from her hot bath beaded there, and she found herself wanting to lick the water away.  _One thing at a time_ , she thought.

"That, and...in a larger sense I guess." He gazed around the bathroom, unnerved by the fact she couldn't meet his eyes. "There are things...that happened, that we should talk about."

She took a deep breath, "I need to tell you about things that happened to Sarah after you...after you left."

Their eyes locked, and a thousand unspoken words passed between them. Realization hit them at the same time.

Nathan squeezed her hand, "You remembered that day on the beach, didn't you?" She nodded. She didn't look angry. "All of it?"

Another nod. "We had been talking. You got up to go. You seemed -- guilty, nervous." She could practically hear the waves lightly lapping the sand, the cries of gulls as they swooped playfully over head.

"I started to walk away from you," he continued. "Because I wanted you so badly. You. Sarah was you. You're Sarah. But it seemed wrong, somehow. Unfair to both of you." _Like I was cheating on you, with you, without your consent._  It had been beautiful, but sometimes thinking about it, he wanted to apologize and go hide in the muck.

"I muttered something about always picking the shy ones. Then you came charging back and kissed me. I remember what that felt like." She blushed. "I remember thinking that it felt so familiar, that you were so familiar, even though we'd only just met." Now her eyes couldn't look anywhere but at his face, in his eyes. "We kissed. And kissed, and --"

"And then I started kissing your neck. You said we should go someplace less out in the open." He smiled slyly. "If you hadn't, I probably would've...right there on the beach."

His words brought a flush of heat to her belly. "We gathered up the blanket, and you took my hand and led me up the beach towards the cove. You told me about the cave that's tucked in there." The sand had been warm beneath her feet, she remembered. Her heart had been pounding. Sarah had fallen in love with him then, Audrey remembered. That day, that moment in the caves. She’d driven them back to town afterwards, hadn’t been able to keep from kissing him, even in the car. Audrey remembered how Sarah had felt working with Stuart Moseley to get Nathan and Duke home, like she was giving up her heart. Remembering what that felt like, she felt a pang, deep in her belly. Nathan would have to give her up for her to go into the Barn, if they couldn’t figure out a way to stop everything.

Nathan nodded. "I took you into the cave. It was beautiful. You were beautiful." He slid forward on the tile, cupped her damp cheek. "You are beautiful."

She nuzzled his palm, kissed his skin. Her heart was beating so hard now she thought it might beat out of her chest. Her throat felt tight. "Nathan, Sarah never...." She swallowed, hard, against the lump in her throat. "There was never anyone else, for her. She never -- I never --"

Gently, lovingly, he tipped her head up so that they were eye to eye. "James Cogan is my son, isn't he?"

Audrey gasped, and tears filled her eyes. "You knew?"

"I guessed," he said, watching a single tear slide down her left cheek. "I mean, the dates don't match, based on his missing person’s photo, but I figured Sarah or his adopted mother fudged his birth date to keep him hidden."

Audrey shuddered out a breath. "I was so scared you'd be angry."

"Audrey." He kissed her, warm and slow. Relief flooded through her and she marveled at this amazing man who loved her, who accepted how bizarre their life could be, how bizarre her very existence was, and loved her anyway, in spite of it, because of it.

He broke the kiss gently. "We have a son. How can I be angry at that?" He rested his forehead against hers, breathing in the scent of her, water and soap and wine. "I thought you'd be pissed at me."

She frowned. "Why?"

"Why not? Knocking a girl up after a one night stand and then skipping town -- never mind jumping back to my own century -- doesn’t make me a good guy." The guilt that he’d been suppressing since she’d told him who the Colorado Kid actually was slammed into him with the force of a tidal wave. He imagined her being pregnant -- which in and of itself was a heady image; he imagined her alone, probably scared, definitely in pain, no family, few friends, surrounded by Troubles, her time in Haven ticking down to Zero Hour. She’d either known she’d be going away or she was in danger, so she’d given up her son, brought him to a family in Colorado and made them swear to never reveal his true parentage. Though he knew there was nothing to be done, that he had asked her to help him get back to his own time - to another version of herself - he couldn’t help but feel as though he had abandoned her.

"Nathan," her voice held a scolding tone. "I don't think it's quite that clinical. Or simple." She paused. "Tell me why you slept with Sarah. I mean, we've established that you wanted her, but if I'm not mistaken you've wanted me for a while now too and I haven't seen the inside of any caves." She kept her voice light, teasing, trying to keep it light, to banish from his face the shadows that had suddenly haunted it.   
  
He sighed, and reached for his beer, took a healthy swig. “I didn’t know if we were ever coming back.”  _Lame excuse, man,_  he heard Duke’s voice scold him in his head. He drank more beer. “It’s -- Things were so fucked up with us; I was angry with you for pushing me away...it felt like there was this cloud around us. And then I go to 1955 to haul Duke’s ass back home and there you are, all sass and bright smiles. No Barn, no Guard, no Bolt Gun Killer, no six months of the Troubles on our shoulders. Just you and me and a summer day and a couple of beers.” He took another drink. “It was almost perfect.”  
  
Calmly, she sipped her wine. “Almost.”  
  
The empty beer bottle dropped to the tile with a resounding clang. He pinned her with such an intense gaze that Audrey felt as though she almost couldn’t breathe. “Perfect would have been us. You as you are now. I mean, Sarah *was* you but...” He huffed out a frustrated breath. “You were happy and free of all the crap that this town has given you. After weeks of you pushing me away -- you opened your arms to me. You smiled at me in a way that wasn't...sad or hiding something. You let me love you." He closed his eyes, suddenly exhausted. He hadn't realized until that moment how tiring it had been, playing knight to a princess who went out of her way to not let him help her, to make things harder. Not maliciously making things harder, but her reaction to the news of the Hunter and the Colorado Kid hadn't been to run towards him, or even stand beside him, but run away from him. He'd run after her, willingly, but it had cost him.  
  
Slowly, wordlessly, Audrey slowly set down her wine glass next to the tub. Sensing her movement, his eyes opened. Certain she had his full attention, she folded her legs beneath her in the tub and carefully pushed to standing. The water streamed off of her body as she rose into the cooler air of the bathroom. It made her shiver, but she made no move to warm herself or get dry. She merely looked at him, calmly, expectantly, lovingly, as he sat gobsmacked on the floor of his bathroom.  
  
Nathan was fairly certain that his mouth was hanging open. She was standing over him, the Lady of the Lake, Nimue reborn, a sorceress of the first order. He hadn't had time to study her body in the dim light of the cave all those summers ago. Their coupling had been fast and passionate, needy and greedy. Now, in the soft light of his bathroom, she was all he could see.  
  
She held her hand out to him. In her eyes, he didn't see anger or hurt or regret. Glinting in her eyes he saw what he'd seen in Sarah's --  _her_ , the woman he'd fallen in love with who had hidden herself away behind walls designed to protect them both. He took what was offered and pulled himself to standing, careful to not make her slip in the tub.  
  
They stood, looking at each other, breathing. She shivered again as the water dried on her skin. He reached over and grabbed from the sink the towel she’d selected from his linen closet. His eyes never leaving hers,  he draped it around her shoulders, rubbing her arms to warm and dry her.  
  
Gently, he helped her out of the tub, a puddle forming around their feet. She rose on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his, her arms coming free of the towel and wrapping around his neck and back. Her fingers teased the back of his neck, grabbed at his skin as she kissed him. She wanted to chase away his guilt, his sadness, the weariness she had seen in his eyes. In all the time she had known him and worked with him, all the death and grief they had seen with the Troubles, nothing had put shadows under his eyes and given him such a to-the-bone weariness as Audrey now knew she had. She had given it to him, and now she wanted to chase it away, banish any vestiges of what she had caused.  
  
She started backing him away from the tub and towards the door, bathwater and beer bottles and wine glasses forgotten, the towel in a heap on the floor. Counting on his reflexes to be quick, she pressed her hands to his shoulders and made a small jump, wrapping her wet legs around his waist.  
  
Instinctively, one of Nathan's arms came under her for support as she wrapped herself around him, wantonly, arms and legs and hair, smelling of drugstore gift basket body wash and tasting of wine. Her skin was damp and cool and soft. Audrey Parker was naked in his arms, he thought to himself, smug and satisfied and shocked all at the same time. He gasped when her teeth scraped along his throat, and he felt her fingers fumble to unbutton his shirt. Stumbling backwards out of the bathroom, he moved to press her up against the wall to give her more support while she set about her task.  
  
Tugging his open shirt from his waistband, she let out a growl of frustration when instead of his bare skin she met a thermal undershirt. "Why do you wear so many clothes?" she asked, tugging the shirt aside to gain better access to his collar bone.  
  
"It's November in Maine," he choked out, running his fingers up and down her ribs. "I wear layers."  
  
“You can’t feel the cold,” she rasped, before scraping her teeth across his collarbone.

“Can still get frostbite,” he shot back, gasping.

Wrapping one arm around his neck to anchor herself, Audrey nimbly began working at his belt, one handed. "You better not have long johns on under these."  
  
Pulling her away from the wall and taking them through his bedroom door, Nathan sent up to the gods a quick prayer of thanks that he'd chosen not to wear any this morning. Her hands were everywhere, in his hair, on his neck, his back and torso under his shirt. Whereas Sarah had been content to let him set the pace, Audrey was clearly driving the train now. Determined and single minded of purpose, she sucked lightly at the skin where his neck met his shoulder.  
  
"Audrey." She continued to make a feast of him. Not that he minded, but he didn't want tonight to be as rushed as he and Sarah had been, when he had felt like the universe was giving him one last chance to love her, one time, and when she had been going through life with the understanding that things could end at any moment -- there was an irony that they were under a similar threat of finality now, with the Barn’s arrival only days away. When he said her name again and got no response, Nathan jerked his head away.  At her annoyed look, he smiled. "Slow down, Parker. I don't want to rush this." He kissed her playfully. "I'm not going anywhere."  
  
"I am," she whispered through ragged breaths.  
  
His belly clenched, but he tried to keep it out of his voice. "Not tonight you're not." He put one knee on the bed and began to lower her to it. "I love you, Audrey Parker."  
  
Her chest heaved and a slight flush covered her skin. "Love you too," Audrey replied with a smile. _It feels good to say it_ , she thought as she watched him shed the button down and thermal, remove the belt she had started on. He stood before her in the dark room, bare chested, barefoot, naked but for a pair of jeans.

“You have too many clothes on,” she said.

“For now.” He flicked on the bedside lamp. “I want to see you in the light.” He lowered himself on top of her, denim-clad legs tangled with her bare ones, using his arms to hover slightly above her. “I want you to see me.” He pressed his lips to her throat, began slowly, torturously kissing a line down the center of her chest, down her torso, to her belly button. He felt her tense, either with nerves or anticipation and he grinned wickedly against her skin. His tongue darted out and he traced a line from her belly button to her left hip, delighting in the noises she made, in her tastes and textures. He licked and kissed and nibbled his way down the outside of her leg to the back of her knee, over her calf, the inside of her thigh. She tensed again and he pulled himself back up to her belly, kissing his way back up to her throat.

For someone with no sense of touch, the man could do things with his hands and mouth that could win Olympic medals. Audrey had no choice but to surrender herself to sensation. His palms were smooth but calloused, the hands of a laborer. His stubble scraped lightly at her skin, making her shiver. She ran her hands over his back, down his ribs to his waist and back up again, delighting in the feel of him. She felt his scars -- healed punctures, pockmarks on his left shoulder where he’d lost a fight to a possessed nail gun. One hand brushed over his abdomen, where there was no scar, but she remembered the deadly wound, even if he didn’t. She ran her fingers over his belly and chest, over the scars of his bullet wounds, the wounds that had killed him. She’d pushed him away to save him and it had killed him anyway.

As if sensing her thoughts, Nathan took one of her hands and brought it to his mouth, kissing her fingers, sucking them lightly one by one. He lowered to his elbows, his face inches from hers. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered. “I’m right here.”

Her fingertips lightly touched his face, feather light and soft, as if she were trying to get a tactile memory of his features. She tenderly brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “So am I.” She arched up, pressing her bare breasts to his chest. Using the element of surprise and her momentum, she rolled him, pinning him beneath her. “I’m stronger than I look,” she murmured, kissing her way up his neck to tug lightly on his earlobe with her teeth.

“Strongest woman I’ve ever met,” he agreed, turning his head to the side to give her better access. She sat up, abruptly, straddled him. A few deft moves of her fingers and his jeans were unbuttoned and unzipped. Slowly, maddeningly, she began tugging them down his hips as far as she could. He thrust up, ostensibly to make removing his jeans easier, but she was ready for him. In a move he hadn’t known she could make, she levered up into a downward dog position. Once his jeans had cleared his ass, Audrey, with remarkable balance, brought one leg forward and hooked her foot in the crotch of the pants, pushing them the rest of the way down his legs. As she did so, she lowered herself to him with a wicked grin.

He kicked his pants free. “I didn’t know you did yoga.”

“It relaxes me,” she replied, savaging his mouth.

He took her hair in his fist, pulling her head back slightly so that he had better access to her neck. “It really works for you,” he rasped against her raging pulse.

They explored each other, delighting in and filing away all the places that made each other gasp or moan, close their eyes or go limp in surrender -- when he kissed the soft skin under her breasts; when she scraped her teeth over the plane of his hipbones; when he licked just under her ear or sucked on her neck; she learned running her nails lightly over his calves and the backs of his knees could elicit the most delicious sounds from him.

At some point in their exploration, Nathan lost his boxers and with them, the last barrier between them. This was not to be a fast, mindless mating. He had plans for her. He flipped her on her stomach, biting her neck and kissing his way down her back. She was fairly convinced she wasn’t going to have any coherent thoughts for a while. The things the man could do with his mouth and hands were either illegal or award winning -- or both. She felt him touch her, taste her, and surrendered. She fisted her hands in the sheet and buried her face in a pillow to smother her whimpers and moans. On a fierce cry, she flew. A thin sheen of sweat covered her skin and pooled in the small of her back. She felt him lick at it as she’d wanted to lick at his arm earlier.

She rolled over lazily, breathing heavily, a satisfied grin on her face. An equally satisfied grin graced his face. He propped himself up on an elbow, looking down at her. “You alright?”

“Fantastic,” she replied, slowly sitting up. She pushed him to his back. “My turn.” Fairly quickly, she’d wiped the satisfied grin from his face and he was putty in her hands. Her fingers tugged and teased him, her mouth promising what was to come, her skin on his powerfully arousing. He wondered, idly, if a person could die from over-arousal. He’d been without sensation for so long, it was possibly she might actually overload him. At least he would die cheerfully, he thought. Like a cat stalking it’s prey, she climbed back up his body. Taking his hands in hers, she braced herself over him. “Ready?” she asked.

He nodded. “God yes.”

Arching an eyebrow, she began to take him in, deliriously slowly. “No one’s ever called me God before.” She lowered herself onto him and gasped, throwing her head back with abandon. Hands clasped, they stayed still for a moment, revelling in the sensations that coursed through them. Then he dug his fingers into her hips and she began to move, slowly at first, then faster, whipping them both into a frenzy.

Audrey felt it coil up from within her, a keen razor’s edge of pleasure waiting to explode. She lowered her mouth to his and bucked her hips violently. Clinging to her, he let her take him over the edge of the cliff with her.

Neither one of them had any coherent thought for quite some time thereafter. Nathan all the more so, as when Audrey woke in the morning, she found him in a coma.


	5. let the souls wander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which comas are induced, realizations are made, and hard truths are faced

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for all of Haven up through and including the end of S3, although this story does not follow exactly the storyline of S3. I've borrowed some episode dialogue where appropriate. One may also notice references to BSG, Doctor Who, Farscape, the Time Traveler's Wife, Buffy, The West Wing, various Nora Roberts novels, and anything else that's influenced me. The title of this piece comes from a line from John Green's book The Fault In Our Stars. Chapter title comes from the song "The Moon" by The Swell Season. Haven belongs to SyFy, Sam and Jim, etc. Thanks to all the Havenites on Tumblr who continue to give me such great support, as well as all the reviewers here and at AO3. Huge shout out to my dear LadyCallie for betaing everything I've written for the last 13 years. Also huge thanks to my MamaK, the venerable rutsky, who encouraged me to write this and who has been reading this piece throughout it's development. Finally, HUGE thanks to Kitty Chandler and Adsartha Hammett, whose "Murderboards" blog has been instrumental in my research of this piece. Seriously, if you've never been there, their in depth analyses of the characters, locations, mythology, and episodes of Haven are genius.
> 
> Continuity note: Since this story has been sort of following the episode structure of S3, it should be said that this chapter takes place before and after the episode "Last Goodbyes." Also, there's a pretty big spoiler at the end of this, so anyone who HASN'T seen all of Season Three, you've been warned.

At eight a.m., Audrey woke languorously, coming to consciousness in stages. She felt the smooth, warm sheets under her, around her. The pillows under her head were just the right balance of soft and firm. She smelled the unmistakable scent of heated radiators, the steam being forced up from the boiler in the basement. Sunlight from the cool early-November sun streamed through the partially drawn drapes. She felt warm and sated, well rested. Her body felt relaxed, sore and used in the most glorious way. Stirring, she gave her legs a light stretch, her bare skin brushing against his. Against Nathan's skin.

For the better part of the last week, since the night she'd collapsed on her deck, they'd spent the night together, usually at her place, only ever just sleeping. It had felt safe; it had felt right; it had been a step on the path of doing things together, being a united front; against the Troubles, for Haven, against those who wished to do harm. Now, having been with him so intimately, she was amazed they had gone so long only just sleeping.

The previous night had been a beautiful, perfect end to a truly horrible day. Even by Haven standards, it had been horrible. A little girl who could make people do what she said, sometimes to terrible, literal extremes. A pawn in the Guard's chess match that had the town as its board, with Ginger and Nathan and everyone else in town the players. To go from that hard, draining case to the cannery, finding out the Bolt Gun Killer was a Skinwalker, finding his mass graves, all the bodies of all his victims. The stench and the horror had clung to her. But Nathan had given her refuge, helped her feel clean, helped her start to feel whole in a way she hasn't known she needed to.

They had a son together. The Colorado Kid was  _their_  son. Somehow he was alive, hunted by the Bolt Gun Killer, possibly the key to her staying in Haven, to staying with Nathan. Audrey was tempted, so tempted, to imagine what a real life together with the man sleeping beside her might be like. Living with him, loving him, working together, having another child, one they could both be around to raise. It was a beautiful dream. One that was likely never to be.

In her weakest moments, in the ones where she let herself hope that Nathan was right, that she could change her fate, she let herself imagine their life together: her moving into this house with him - although she would miss the solitude and sea views her apartment over the Gull afforded her. Making it their house, not just his house. Arguing over silly things like who's turn it was to do the dishes or take out the trash, having each other to turn to at the end of a bad day. There would be challenges, they would need their own space - living together, working together and sleeping together was a lot of exposure to a single person. Maybe they would marry, maybe they wouldn't. But they would be together. They would have a child - start at one, see where it goes - who would know both its parents, who would have parents who would do their best to protect it, make sure he or she knew how much they were loved. They would make sure their child knew happiness, that he or she would grow up in a truly safe Haven. And if the Troubles came back, their child would be like them, working to help the Troubled, to end the curse. It would be a beautiful future, for them, together.

 _Would never be, more like_ , she thought bitterly. The grief from that thought strangled her, choked her. They'd only had six months together, less than two weeks to enjoy what they really were to each other, a few days to explore being lovers. They would never be able to build a life together if they couldn't figure out how to keep her in Haven and stop the Troubles. If Jordan was right, if the Troubles stopped when she went into The Barn, how could she damn the town and all the people in it to stay with the man she loved? Had he thought the same thing? Audrey wondered. Had it occurred to him that keeping her with him might be too large of a sacrifice? That their own happiness might be at the expense of thousands of others? She was, essentially, dying. There wasn't any other way she could wrap her brain around it. She could spend what little time she had left endlessly mourning her fate. Or, she could embrace the life she'd been given, the life she had found with him, with friends like Duke.

Resolving to not waste another minute mourning what she probably couldn't change, Audrey slithered across the bed, sliding a hand over Nathan's back, down his flank. She hoped to rouse him to wakefulness and a few other things, then shower, grab some breakfast, and head into the office. She rubbed a hand down his hip, up his ribs, over his arm. She scratched her nails lightly on the back of his hand.

"Na-than," she sing-songed softly in his ear, laying her lips against the back of his neck. "Time to wake up." He did not move.

She laughed. "Come on Nathan, wake up." He still did not move.

Audrey shook him lightly. "Very funny, Wournos. I was going to entice you into a morning quickie, but if you're gonna be a lazy bones..." He still did not stir.

Concerned now, she sat up in bed, shaking him with greater force. "Nathan? Wake up!" she shouted. No reply.

"Nathan!" She gave him a mighty shake and pulled him over onto his back with the momentum of it.

His face was peaceful, as it always looked when he slept. Scrambling, breath heaving with fear, she checked his pulse, listened to his breathing. His pulse was steady, his respirations normal.  _What the fuck?_

"Okay," she said, calming herself. "Okay. I'm going to call for some help." She climbed out if bed, dug his cellphone out of his discarded jeans, dialed 911. Taking another check of his pulse, she listened as the call rang. And rang. And rang. And rang. "Dammit." She disconnected the call, paused, forced herself to be rational, cop like, to combat the panic.

Flipping through his contacts, she tried Laverne next, calling straight through to dispatch. Nothing. Next, she tried Stan. No answer. She snatched her badge and gun from the bathroom and she made her way, naked, through his house in search of clothes. She ran down the basement steps. He'd gotten up during the night to throw her clothes in the dryer. She remembered him kissing her cheek, whispering he would be right back. When he had come back, she had curled into him, fallen back asleep. Had something happened to him in the basement? She ran through the possibilities as she dressed, clipped her badge and gun to her waist. Not carbon monoxide, as she certainly wasn't immune to that. Most likely, she knew, it was some kind of Trouble, but until she got into town to see what was happening with everyone else, she couldn't know for sure. She ran back up to the second floor, slipping into her boots.

She returned the cell phone to his bedside table, then leaned down to kiss him gently on the lips. _So much for true love's kiss_ , she thought wryly when he didn't so much as snore. Even in Haven, life rarely resembled a fairy tale.

"I'm going to figure this out," she promised his sleeping form. "But I gotta borrow your car. You can yell at me later." Tucking the blankets up around his shoulders to ward off the chill, Audrey kissed his cheek, whispered "I love you," and dashed from the room.

She grabbed her cellphone and his keys from a basket by his front door, locked his house up behind her, and was down the path and jumping in the old blue Bronco. It was larger than any car she'd driven recently, but she managed. She threw it into reverse and backed out of the drive, heading towards town. She had to remind herself not to speed, simply because she didn't want to wreck his beloved old car. It was probably the most cautious drive of her life, she thought as she made her way towards downtown Haven. She knew how pissed he would be when he woke up if she had wrecked his Bronco.

She tried calling the Gull, and then Duke's cell. When all she got was both voice mails, she became more and more certain she was in the middle of another Troubled episode. _Again_. She remembered her first case after she had decided to stay in Haven for a while, how normal it had been, and how she had complained to Nathan about it. Now, she thought, she would love a simple B and E, or shoplifting. Hell, she would even take a cat up a tree at this point.

The closer to the center of town she got, the more Audrey knew it was a Trouble. Cars were stopped all along the road, their drivers slumped over the steering wheel, asleep. When she could safely drive no further, she eased the Bronco over to the shoulder, parked it.

Pocketing the keys, she slipped out of the car, moving among the stopped cars to check their occupants. All asleep. As far as she could see, on the sidewalk, on the grass, in the street, there were people who were seemingly sleeping where they had sensed movement behind her and whirled, gun drawn. Before her stood a man in his late thirties, wearing one shoe and a silly graphic tee, looking befuddled. Unaware that his name was Will Brady, that he would become alternately her prime suspect in the BGK murders, then her de facto partner, then the Troubled person she needed to help, she began demanding information.

Later, after they'd checked the police station and determined everyone wasn't sleeping, but rather in a coma; after visiting his home and determining that he wasn't the Bolt Gun Killer, but rather a victim, in the wrong place at the wrong time who had lost the woman he'd loved without being able to tell her how he felt; after they'd gone to the hospital and learned that he was the cause of this particular round of Haven's Troubles, she sat in the back of an ambulance with him, watching him affix leads to his temple, and they talked about love and loss and saying goodbye.

"I guess this is goodbye. It's been real, Audrey Parker."

She had never seen someone so resigned to their fate. He seemed almost peaceful, content with it. She envied him for it. "Will Brady. I'll see you around."

He smirked, almost looked disappointed. "Really? That's the best you've got?"

"Yeah, I've got to get better at goodbyes." Nathan had made it his life's mission to fight her fate. While she would support him in that, as she did in all things, there was a part of her that was already feeling pulled - she wasn't sure where she was being pulled, but she knew it was away from Haven. Maybe she just needed to accept what she didn't want to believe. There were a few things that fell in that category.

Audrey sighed. "It's just...I know why you're doing this. It's for the good of everyone else." She felt as though she was in some bizarre version of _Its a Wonderful Life._

"It still sucks." So maybe he wasn't as content with it as she thought.

"But you're saving lives."

 _Audrey goes into the Barn and then she and it go away for twenty-seven years. The Troubles stop._  It was hard not to keep hearing that over and over in her head. How could she risk the town for her own happiness?

"That's just it. I might never see them again, but I have to do it. I'm out of time, right?" He smirked ruefully. "If only I had a few more hours."

"A few days..." All she had was a few more days. It was terrifying and filled her with sadness.

"Days? Parker, if I had a few days, I'd fight this tooth and nail."

It felt like some kind of cosmic accusation. It felt like guilt, like she'd spent so much time being complicit to her fate, instead of trying to fight it, like Duke had been for months. "Maybe it isn't over. Maybe you can keep fighting, Will."

Suddenly, Will's monitor start screaming. He was gone. Looking around, she saw that everyone started was starting to wake up, including the ambulance driver.

"What happened?" he asked with alarm, oddly nonplussed that a random woman was in the back of his bus. "Did we crash?"

"You're okay. You just...passed out." Idly, she wondered how many times she'd had conversations like this. Conversations where she smiled and lied that everything was fine when everything was so far from fine that they were looking at it in their rear view mirror.

The poor man looked confused. "Was there a gas leak or something?

"Yeah it was a gas leak. Town wide - again." She smiled wryly. "Never mind that. I need you to turn your lights and your siren on and turn this thing around. Your patient needs to get back to the hospital."

He looked at her blankly.

Mentally, she rolled her eyes. "Right now!"

As the paramedic started up the ambulance's engine, the cell phone in her pocket sang out shrill tones. Answering the call, she said, "Parker."

"Audrey," Nathan's voice, full of relief, filled her ear. "Where the hell are you? Are you okay?" He'd damned near panicked when he woke up in an empty bed, her side of it long gone cold, her badge and weapon gone. He'd panicked even more when he saw the time on the bedside alarm clock.

She smiled, "I'm in town. I'm fine. How are you feeling?"

"Fine. Like I just slept all day. What happened?" He was rummaging around his bedroom for clean clothes, tucking the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he pulled on some boxers.

She slanted her eyes towards the ambulance driver. "Uh, another gas leak. It knocked out the whole town." She heard him sigh.

"Right." When he heard the ambulance sirens kick on, his stomach dropped and he almost fell over as he put on his pants. "Are you hurt? What's going on?"

"I'm in an ambulance, on the way to the hospital. I'mnothurt," she said quickly before he could interrupt. "Just following through on a case. Why don't you meet me at the hospital, ICU, and I'll fill you in, okay?"

"Yeah. Okay. See you soon." He paused, pulling a long sleeved thermal shirt from his dresser. Giving in to impulse, he said, "Love you, Parker."

She blushed, feeling strangely exposed hearing him say that to her outside the privacy of their own homes. "You too," she replied, hoping she sounded warm and genuine. She knew that he was rarely a man of many words, and while he wasn't spouting poetry from the rooftops, he was being positively effusive by his own standards, and she wanted to encourage him. Besides, she thought, she didn't know how much longer she had to hear him tell her he loved her, to tell him that she felt the same way.

No sooner had she disconnected than did her phone ring again. She looked at the display. It was Duke.

"Audrey," he said when she answered. "Do you happen to have any idea why my morning staff and I just took an extended nap? The Gull looks like a frat house on a Saturday morning, my dinner staff is late, and I'm supposed to open in an hour."

She smiled, "There was another town wide gas leak. Can you believe it?"

He laughed, "No I cannot. Unless you spell gas leak t-r-o-u-b-l-e."

Audrey laughed in return and heard him call out to his staff that there was a round of drinks on the house. Her phone beeped, another call coming in. "Duke, I gotta go. Parker," she said, switching over the call.

"The ever radiant Officer Parker," Dave's voice crooned in her ear.

She rolled her eyes, "What can I do for you, Dave?"

"Oh, I'm here too, Audrey," Vince said over the speakerphone. "We were just wondering if Haven's finest had a comment on today's events?"

"I was thinking tainted water supply," Dave commented.

"Or toxic emissions from the power plant up in Derry, come down to do us harm!" Vince this time.

"Sorry to disappoint, fellas," she said, trying not to laugh. "I'm afraid it was another gas leak."

"Again?!" The brothers Teague said in unison. "'Fraid so," she drawled. Her phone beeped - again - and she sighed. A cop's work was never done, especially in Haven. "Talk to you later. Hello?"

"Parker." Nathan said her name slowly, drawing it out.

She frowned, "Didn't I talk to you like, two minutes ago?"

"Ayuh," he said, the native Maine-er in him coming out, making her smile fondly.

She lowered her voice so the EMT wouldn't overhear, "What, do you miss me or something?"

"Well, that too, but, Parker - where the hell is my car?"

She winced. She'd completely forgotten that he had no way to get to her, since she'd had to take the Bronco to get into town. "Um, on Townsend Road, between..." She searched her memory. "Fairfax and Hallifax."

"And how did it get there?" His voice was flat, patronizingly annoyed. "I couldn't drive it any further without smashing into parked cars and running over unconscious people?" She made her voice syrupy sweet, so as to imply she'd had no choice and he really shouldn't be mad.

He sighed, and she imagined him scrubbing a hand over his face. "Right. I guess I'll grab the spare keys and call Stan to come get me. But Parker," he said.

"Hmmm?" Her voice was all innocence.

"When I see you, we're gonna have a talk about who I let drive my car."

"Oh look, we're at the hospital. See you when you get here. Gottagobye."

Nathan looked at his disconnected cell phone, trying to work up a mad that she'd taken his car without his permission. Even though she hadn't had any way to get into town and had been the only one conscious during a Troubled event. Knowing he couldn't really fault her and wasn't really more annoyed that he was stranded than anything else, he smirked and dialed Stan. As the ringing started, it occurred to him that he couldn't explain why Audrey had taken his car.

"Stan," he said, thinking fast when the beat cop picked up. "I think some kids musta made off with my truck last night, took it for a joyride. I just got a call it's down on Townsend Road. Can you come get me at my house?"

As the ambulance cruised into the ambulance bay, Audrey's phone rang again. Looking at the display, she saw that it was Claire's number calling her. She found herself suddenly wishing everyone was back in a coma so her phone would stop ringing for five damn minutes. Huffing out a breath, she shoved her phone in her pocket. "Sorry," she muttered, jumping out of the ambulance after Will's stretcher and the paramedics. "You're just gonna have to get my voicemail."

When she came out of Will's room later, having convinced his family to leave him on life support, she saw Nathan sitting calmly on a gurney in the oddly empty hallway. She wondered if he ever got tired of waiting for her. Because there were no prying eyes around, she went to him, suddenly exhausted. She slowly approached him, until she was standing in front of him, her legs on either side of his crossed ankles.

Holding her gaze, he reached out, hooking his index fingers through the belt loops of her jeans. He pulled her to him with a jerk until she was all but straddling him. His thumbs absently caressed the skin of her hips underneath her shirt.

"Hey." His voice was soft and calm.

"Hey." On a sigh, she slumped forward for a minute, resting her forehead on his shoulder, just breathing him in. He said nothing more, only continued drawing random patterns on her skin. Being here with him, in the quiet, taking a private moment - this is what she wanted. This, a normal life. Someone to share her - ha ha - troubles with. Sometimes we have to go away, even when we don't want to. Taking a few deep breaths she straightened, offered him a small smile.

He looked at her with concern. Her eyes held so many shadows, held so much grief. What had happened while he had been asleep? He watched her sit in the gurney next to him, her shoulders slumped, her head bowed. "Is the town believing the gas leak story?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, quirking his lips. "Again." She sighed with relief, but the relief didn't quite make it to her eyes. She looked worn down, he thought. They only had a few days left and each day was proving to be harder than the last. "So," he quipped. "Did we all eat a poisoned apple?"

She shook her head, unable to find the laugh she knew he was trying to charm out of her. "Comas. Everyone was dying." Dying. So many dead already. So many goodbyes still to say. On a mirthless laugh, she said, "New town ordinance: no one gets the plug pulled during the Troubles."

"It is so ordered," he replied. Gently, he took her hand. "You okay?"

"It's been a long day. I had a break in the Skinwalker case. I ID'd one of the Jane Doe's. My Troubled guy was a BGK victim. Instead of killing him for his skin, he just put him in an irreversible coma. Will, Will Brady." She told him how Will's friend Erin had been their victim with the missing lips. "She was a missed opportunity, his friend. He never got to tell her how he felt, never got to say goodbye..." The grief of what she knew threatened to shatter her. The grief that had been climbing up her throat since the first night he stayed with her, since she told him that she loved him, sat poised, waiting to strike. Waiting to kill.

Audrey looked at him through the curtain of her blonde hair, her eyes full of sadness.

"Parker," Nathan brought her fingertips to his mouth, brushed his lips over them in a way that made her blush, made her ache. "I'm still here. We'll have time for this, once we find a way to keep you here."  _We have time._  "We'll figure this thing out, together."

"There are things I need to say, things I want to say..." Her eyes darted around.

"So tell me," he said. "But after we get food. I'm starving. I mean, I think I am." He gave her a smile, hoping for one in return. When he didn't get one, the grief-stricken look on her face made him sit up straight. "Audrey, what. Is. Wrong?"

She suddenly felt as though the walls were closing in on her. "There was something else last night, that I didn't tell you."

He scowled, but said nothing, giving her time and room to arrange her thoughts.

Suddenly nervous, possibly paranoid - it's not paranoia if they actually are trying to get you, she thought - she hopped down off the gurney. Keeping his hand in hers, she pulled him down the hall, jiggling door handle after door handle until one opened. Without even caring what the room was, only that it was empty, she went inside, pulling him in with her.

Looking around, Nathan couldn't help but feel amused at the cliche of it all. "Really?" he joked. "A hospital supply closet?" Still, he couldn't get a laugh out of her. Her eyes were wet with tears, dulled by something he couldn't identify. He took her face in his hands, struggling to keep his voice gentle, to control the panic she was causing him. "Please, tell me. Let me help you."

She took a deep breath, ragged and shuddering. "It's Claire," Audrey said. "The Skinwalker is Claire." She hung her head, tears spilling from her eyes. Her ravaged eyes met his, skewering him. "He killed her."


	6. the marks humans leave are too often scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an argument is had, and it's all finally laid out on the table

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for all of Haven up through and including the end of S3, although this story does not follow exactly the storyline of S3. I've borrowed some episode dialogue where appropriate. One may also notice references to BSG, Doctor Who, Farscape, the Time Traveler's Wife, Buffy, The West Wing, various Nora Roberts novels, and anything else that's influenced me. The title of this piece comes from a line from John Green's book The Fault In Our Stars. Chapter title comes from the same book. Haven belongs to SyFy, Sam and Jim, etc. Thanks to all the Havenites on Tumblr who continue to give me such great support, as well as all the reviewers here and at AO3. Huge shout out to my dear LadyCallie for betaing everything I've written for the last 13 years. Also huge thanks to my MamaK, the venerable rutsky, who encouraged me to write this and who has been reading this piece throughout it's development. Finally, HUGE thanks to Kitty Chandler and Adsartha Hammett, whose "Murderboards" blog has been instrumental in my research of this piece. Seriously, if you've never been there, their in depth analyses of the characters, locations, mythology, and episodes of Haven are genius.
> 
> Continuity note: This story takes after "Last Goodbyes", but timeline-wise it's the same day.

Nathan's jaw very nearly dropped; only years of finely honed stoicism kept it in place. "What? When? How?"

Audrey, feeling entirely deflated, sat in an overturned mop bucket, seemingly disappearing from between his hands. "I don’t know when, exactly. She made me suspicious yesterday. She argued with me the whole way to the station about why she shouldn’t take the test." She had even commented on it to the woman, Audrey thought. "Then, she failed the test. She didn’t have the right answers to what I was asking her. She said she was testing me but she was just wrong. Her information was incomplete.”

He folded his arms across his chest, scowled. "Then why let her go? Why let her help question the rest of us?" He had been in the same room with her, had spoken to her, had sat across from her. Worse, Audrey had been alone with her, knowing that Claire wasn't who she was claiming to be. Not anymore.

She twisted her hands together. "I didn't want to be right. I wanted her just to have been forgetful. Having an off couple days. But if I was right, I didn’t want her to know that I knew.” She took a deep breath, trying to find her inner cop. _Report on the suspect, Parker._  “She couldn't talk to Ginger, couldn't get her to talk. She got me to talk and she couldn't get information out of a ten year old? At the time, I didn't think a lot of it, but then something about her was off at the cannery. The more I talked to her at the station, the more she interacted with everyone, I became more and more sure."

He shoved his hands in his pockets, to keep them from shaking her for what he perceived as stupidity and unnecessarily risking herself. "Then why let her go? What if she killed someone else?" He couldn’t believe she would take that chance.

Audrey shook her head. "She needs me. She's after the our son. We're lucky she doesn’t know you're his father."

"That would just put a different target on my back," Nathan muttered. Though he was bristling, there was a part of him that was flattened by how casually she spoke of their son, of his fatherhood, however unusual it might be.

Rolling over his comment, she continued. "She wants to get close to me. Based in the bodies we found at the cannery, she's got her Bride of Frankenstein together already. Other than getting more skins to wear, I don’t think she’s going to kill anyone else unless they get in her way. By killing Claire, she's got a better in into my circle than when she was Tommy."

Nathan glowered at her, struggled to keep his voice low. Calm was rapidly escaping him. "You should have said something to me at the station. We could have locked her up, interrogated her." _Killed her, stopped this,_  he thought darkly.

Audrey's ravaged, tear-filled eyes locked on his. Her pain and determination were as naked in them as she had been the previous evening. "She's already killed you once, I wasn't going to let her hurt you or anyone else if we tried to apprehend her unprepared and she fought back." Why was he fighting her on this? Why couldn’t he understand?

She took a deep breath to steady her thoughts. "I still have a few FBI tricks up my sleeve." _And I've picked up a few things from Duke recently_ , she thought, but didn't say. "I bugged her phone when she wasn’t paying attention, so I’ve  been getting text alerts as to her movements. So far nothing's looked off. Whoever the Skinwalker really is, he seems to be content masquerading as Claire."

Nathan considered this. He admired her planning, even if she hadn't shared her plan with him until now. That was what stung the most, he realized. That she still had secrets to keep from him. That she still felt as though she needed to keep things from him. "She didn't ping for me," he murmured, questioning his cop's instincts. "When, do you think..."

Audrey shrugged, deflated. "It was the real Claire in the bizarro Haven I was in when you and Duke were in 1955. It was the real Claire who came when you called after I passed out. So...sometime between then and yesterday. I bet Lucchesi will eventually identify one of the bodies from the cannery as hers." Audrey forced herself to try and remain detached. She could mourn for her lost friend later. "I should have put protective details on everyone. On her. After you and Duke, she's the most logical choice."

For the second time in twenty four hours, her stomach clenched and her heart leapt into her throat at the thought of either of the two men falling victim to the Killer. After they had found the first batch of bodies at the cannery, she had been momentarily paralyzed with grief at the thought that one of the bodies might be theirs. A similar grief threatened to devour her now, as she thought of Claire, murdered, skinned and burned.

Nathan began pacing as best he could in a janitorial supply closet, moving like a caged animal to stave off the panic that threatened to swallow him whole.

He was all cop now, Audrey thought. No longer her best friend, her lover, the father of her son, a man whose single driving force was the need to protect her.

He stopped moving briefly when a thought occurred to him. "She has to know its only a matter of time before we figure it out. Whatever her endgame is --"

"I think she's going to try to move on it tonight." Audrey watched his eyes flash murder, as she had expected him too. Especially where she was concerned, he protected, he sacrificed, he acted; he didn’t think, he didn’t talk -- he just did. It was that part of his nature that had made her scared for him when she’d found out about her own fate. His baser instincts could sometimes be sexy, sometimes be terrifying, could other times be maddening. She knew he trusted her, knew she could and had acquitted herself capably, and that she didn’t need to prove anything to him. However, it seemed that the closer she got to having to walk into the Barn, the more caveman-like Nathan seemed to get, in some respects. Filing that potential fight away for another day, she held up her phone, played the voicemail Fake Claire had left her, that she had checked before leaving Will's room.

Claire's voice, bright but sounding forced, echoed tinily from the Blackberry's speaker. _"Hi Audrey, it's Claire. Listen, I have some more thoughts on that Bolt Gun profile. How about I come over tonight, we can go over it and you can explain to me what happened today. Call me back. Bye._ "

Audrey reached out, asking for his hand. Slowly he stepped forward, took it, and crouched so they were at eye level. "The Hunter comes in two days. My time is running out and so is the Skinwalker's. It wants to know about the Colorado Kid. It's angry at me, it wants to hurt the people I care about, but it needs me."

He squeezed her hand so tightly she nearly yelped. His eyes were hard and dangerous. "You can't meet with her."

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise and she slowly pulled her hand back from his.  _Maybe this fight won’t wait_ , she thought.  "Yes Nathan, I can."

"No, Audrey.” The rage in his voice was palpable as he shot to his feet. “You don't tell me when you first realize that Claire's the Skinwalker. You kept that to yourself for a day. Fine." He began pacing again.

“In my defense, I was going to tell you this morning but you were in a _coma_ ,” she interjected, testily.

He waved that away. "You think I'm going to let you be alone again with that murdering psychopath?"

She was actually a bit alarmed by the extent of his rage, she realized. She tried making a joke. "Sort-of FBI agent over here, remember? Also a cop in  _your_  police department. I'm not exactly helpless."

Her attempt at levity fell far short of its intended mark. He stopped dead in his tracks and leveled her with a gaze she had only seen him give Duke, and even then it was only when Nathan was supremely angry with him. "You think I'm just going to let you be bait?"

_Okay, we’ll fight this out now,_  Audrey thought hotly. She shot to her feet, feeling the need to be eye to eye with him -- or at least be on as similar a plane as possible. "'Let' me? What gives you the right to think I do anything by your leave?" Her eyes shot fire and rage.

Nathan stepped to her and crushed his mouth to hers angrily. She went still, briefly, with surprise, but he persisted. He fisted his hands in her hair, tugging at it with some force. She gasped at the shock, at the quick pain. He could have sworn he heard her growl as he felt her kiss him back with equal anger. It was all too much. Too overwhelming. He had never felt so powerless in his life. She was slipping away from him and sometimes it seemed like only one of them really wanted her to stay. He felt her teeth sink into his lip, but not playfully, not like she had the previous evening. He was surprised he didn’t taste blood.

“Fuck you,” she cursed into his mouth. “I’ll do this without you.”

Want. Take. Have. A feral need to consume, to conquer, filled her. She was furious, could feel his own fury pumping off of him in waves. How dare he tell her what she could and couldn't do? How dare he try to stop her when she finally -- finally -- was one step ahead of the Skinwalker and could stop the killing, stop the deaths? Did he think her weak, incapable? Hadn’t she gotten on just fine while he was off cavorting with Jordan and playing with the Guard? _Fuck him_ , she thought bitterly. He had walked away from her --  _as you wanted him too_ , Claire’s voice whispered in her ear -- but she had kept on, had lived.

_I’ll do this without you._  It rang in his ears and cut through him like a thousand razor blades. On a ragged breath, he tore his mouth from hers, and she stumbled back, away from him. Across the supply room, their eyes locked, the only sound their panting breaths. Her face was flushed, her hair was a mess, and her eyes were wet with tears and shining with hurt. The look on her face ripped into him more keenly than Tommy’s bullets had. More keenly than anything ever had.

Dammit.

They had talked about her pushing him away, but they'd never really talked about his own sins. He had known what she was doing and still he had walked away from her, had used his anger with her to assuage his guilt for what he was doing with Jordan, with the Guard. She had gotten used to doing things without him, to making plans without him. It cut deep, that there was a part of her that didn't trust him, and that he had had a part in creating that in her.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked. He took a deep breath and was stunned to hear it rattle and shake in his his chest. He gulped for breath. _I’m crying,_  he thought. Instinctively, he brushed at his cheeks, even though he had no way of knowing if he was wiping away the tears. “Jordan, Sarah, the Guard, Claire...Audrey, I’m so sorry.”

She made no move to come near him. “Claire isn’t your fault, Nathan.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face, wondering if he was still crying. “When you were kidnapped it...ripped something open. I couldn't think of anything other than protecting you, whatever the cost.” And that obsession had cost them both plenty. “It was less than a day that I didn’t know where you were, if you were safe, and it made me crazy.” _Literally._

“So because I couldn’t protect myself from a kidnapping neither one of us could have predicted, I’m no longer capable of taking care of myself, of doing my job?”

He glared at her. “That’s not what I said.”

“It might as well have been,” she shot back. “You said you weren’t going to ‘let me’ go in with...FauxClaire. You’re my partner, you might be my lover, but you’re sure as hell not my keeper. What gives you the right to assume you have any control over me?” She stepped to him, a single finger drilling sharply into his chest.

"Because I fucking love you!" His voice reverberated through the room with the force of an atomic blast. His chest heaved as though he’d run for miles. The rage, the fear, the panic coursed through him like electricity. If his Trouble hadn’t been triggered years ago, the thought of the woman he loved willingly walking into the lion’s den surely would have set it off. It was like bugs crawling under his skin, he thought, the way the myriad of emotions inside him churned and boiled, ready to erupt and lay waste to whomever was in their path.

"Well I fucking love you too!" Audrey shouted back, her chest heaving. “You have a hell of a way of showing it.”

He threw up his hands. “Jesus Christ, Parker, what do you expect me to do? Do nothing while you throw yourself off a cliff?”

She folded her arms across her chest. “No, I expect you to back me up. I expect you to trust me.”

“I do trust you,” he said, voice shaky.

“Apparently not enough to back me up on this,” she muttered petulantly.

“I trust you!” he insisted. “Christ, Audrey, how often has my life been in your hands?”

“So, you trust me with your life, but not with my own?”

The words were a direct hit. He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “I’ve lost too many people, Audrey. Losing you --”

Her arms fell. “We may not have a choice about that,” she said softly, with no trace of anger in her voice. She placed a hand on his chest, over his heart, over his scars. “You can’t protect me from the Barn.” It was a hard, bitter truth that cut more deeply than any blade. It was an honest assessment of what might happen in the next 48 hours that they’d both been avoiding.

He met her eyes. “Do you want to leave?”

“Excuse me?”

“When the Barn comes. Do you want to go inside and disappear? Because if you do, tell me, and I’ll stop fighting so goddamn hard for you to stay.”

Audrey cupped his cheek with her palm. There was a kind of naked pain in his eyes that she could see through their tears, through her own and through his; it was a fear that the caveman act couldn’t hide that had her own anger and hurt ebbing.

Her skin felt warm, and her thumb caressed his face, wiping away his tears. “Nathan...”

“Don’t,” he ordered. “Don’t tell me it’s going to be okay, or that you have to go. I know.” Frantic, he took her face in his hands. “Parker, you don’t understand.”

She frowned. “Tell me.”

He took a deep breath, not caring if there were still tears streaming down his face. He held her face in his hands, looked deeply into her eyes as though he were trying to sear his words onto her brain.  “Audrey, I am gonna die before I let you go into that Barn.”

Audrey gasped, “Nathan, no.” She tugged his hands from her face. “I need you to listen to me, alright? I want to stay here. I want to stay with you. More than anything.” She brushed her lips over his palm. “But I can’t do that if it means more people might get hurt.”

“Audrey...”

“I love you,” she said, her voice full of determination. “And I don’t want to leave you. But I can’t let people die just so that we can be happy.” She pressed her lips to his, strong and loving. “I love you,” she promised against his mouth. “And I will try every way we can find to stay with you, to build a life with you.”

There was a naked sincerity in her voice that left him without any doubt she wanted a future with him. He wasn’t a man of words, but lived his life by the truth in his actions, and the actions of others.

_Short of chaining herself to your banister, how do you expect her to show her sincerity at not wanting to leave, Nathan?_  His father’s voice rang as clearly in his head as if Garland Wuornos was standing in the room with them.  _You’ve had a hard life, son, I won’t deny that. Your mother’s death was difficult for both of us, and unfair, and I spent years trying to make you tough enough to handle what was coming. Maybe I didn’t go about things the right way, who knows?_  Time seemed to slow down as the former Chief of Police’s voice rasped in Nathan’s ears. _I can’t change the past and you can’t change the future. She’s a special woman, that girl. You should know her well enough to know she ain’t some damsel in a tower. Love her for all she is, son. Shoulder the weight_  with _her, not_ for _her._

Nathan blinked, and like someone pressing play on a DVD player, everything snapped back into focus, and time began to move again. Audrey was staring up at him, her eyes intense and wet with tears. She was still speaking. “I know you want me safe. I want you safe -- I’ve seen you die twice and that’s...more than enough. But I don’t lock you in a room with your needlework just because I don’t want you hurt.”

“I don’t have needlework,” he muttered.

“Decoupage, whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “My point is, Nathan...” She took one of his hands in hers, squeezed it for emphasis. “You don’t just protect me; we protect each other. And we can’t do that if we’re fighting each other every step of the way.”

He kissed her, long and strong. He felt her wraps her arms around his neck and settle against him, her warmth and the weight of her body comforting and familiar. He wanted to stay like this, wrapped up in her, away from the things that sought to harm and separate them.

_You can’t hide from the world._  His father’s voice, again.

Mentally, he glowered. _I don’t know what the hell this is, but I don’t need my dead father being a psychic Jiminy Cricket when I’m trying to make out with my girlfriend._

Nathan could almost hear the other man chuckle, and wondered what his father would do about the Hunter and the Barn, if he were still alive.

Audrey broke the kiss gently, and placed a hand on his chest. She smiled at him. “Alright, Wuornos, this isn’t high school. No more necking in supply closets. We’ve got work to do.”

His lips twitched. “Did you just say ‘necking’? Do people still neck?”

“How should I know?” she waved a hand dismissively. “I never went to high school.” At his slightly crestfallen look, she sighed. “I didn’t. The other Audrey did. She was very popular. I -- I don’t know what I did.” She grinned innocently. “But you know who might?”

Nathan sighed. “The Skinwalker.”

“I have to meet with her tonight.”

He wiped furiously at his face, hoping he was rid of the last of his tears. “I’ll be there, with you.”

She shook her head. “That will only make her suspicious.”

“Audrey, she could kill you!”

“I told you yesterday at the cannery, that I wasn’t going to let the Skinwalker hurt any more people, including me. She  _will_  deal with me directly. I’m ready for her.”

Nathan was slightly reassured by the determination he saw in her face, but he could not get out of his mind the picture of her bleeding and dead at the Skinwalker’s hand. “And I told you we were ready. That hasn’t changed.” Gently, so gently, he kissed her. It was acceptance, it was an apology.  “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

"Nathan, I'm not going in blind. I've already planned out the op."

His lips twitched. "The op?"

"I've got the other Audrey's memories, remember?” She flashed him a cheeky grin. “I go in wired. You, Dwight and Duke have ears on me. I'm going to douse her wine, hopefully it'll knock her out. Then we can lock her up, find out what she knows. If it goes south, you three come in. Tasers, flash bangs, the whole deal. If it comes to it, drop us both, sort it out later. We need her alive."

"I want you wearing a vest."

She shook her head. "Can't, she'll notice. She's not going to kill me, not yet. She could have killed me when she kidnapped me but she didn't."

"What if she panics, snaps? Having you wired won't help if she blows your head off."

"If she blows my head off, wearing a vest won't do me any good either," she pointed out, and then regretted her words when she saw a sickly look come over his face. “She wants to meet tonight.” Audrey took one of his hands in hers, held it. “I need you with me on this. I need you to have my back."

"Always," he murmured, and was rewarded with her smile. He felt as though they were on steady ground again. For the moment, he would focus on apprehending the Skinwalker, and hope the work would quiet the overwhelming panic and dread he felt at the prospect of Audrey leaving.

She brought his fingers to her lips, kissed them. “Are we okay?”

“We’re okay,” he promised, returning her gesture. He moved towards the door to leave, but she held him firm. He looked at her curiously.

“Remember this,” she ordered, her eyes intense and beseeching. “I need you to remember this, especially when you think I don’t really want to stay. I may not know who I really am, where I came from, how old I am, all that. But my gut tells me that you are the best thing to come my way in an impossibly long time, even when you’re being completely infuriating.” She flashed him another cheeky grin. “If you think I’m just going to let that go, you’re not nearly as smart as I gave you credit for.”

He wasn’t sure whether to scowl at the implied insult, or kiss her. She made the decision for him, kissing him quickly on the mouth and then pulling him towards the door.

Hand in hand, they ducked out of the supply closet, moving quickly. Alone in the elevator, Nathan frowned. "Okay, about the plan.” She shot him an annoyed look, as though daring him to challenge it. Holding his hands up for peace, he said, “Dwight I get, but why Duke?"

At her silent glare and rolled eyes, he pouted. "Fine."

Once they were outside, in the Bronco, Nathan called Dwight, outlined what they were going to do while Audrey called Duke’s cell. When he answered, she immediately asked, "The night you were going to make me dinner, after I first came to Haven...”

“You mean the night you blew me off?”

She rolled her eyes -- again. “Yes,  _that_  night. But I didn’t blow you off. What were you going to make?"

Duke scoffed, “Seriously, Audrey, you’ve seen too many Bond movies, if you’re gonna do this spy crap every time we talk now.”

“Duke, I’m not messing around. What were you making?”

He sighed. “Grilled shrimp, marinated in coconut.”

She nodded to Nathan. “Yeah, you were. Okay, I’m going to pass you over to Nathan. We’re going to need you tonight.”

“Audrey, seriously, whatever weirdo games you and Nathan want to play with each other, you can leave me out of it. I mean, I can probably find someone who wants to watch if that’s your thing but -- “

Unbeknownst to the smuggler and bar owner, Audrey had already handed the phone over to her partner. “Duke.”

“Nate!” He considered making a joke to cover his ass, but decided against it. “What’s going on?”

“We’re going to catch us a Skinwalker.”

At the Gull, Duke eased himself onto a bar stool. “Tell me more.”


	7. devil gonna follow me e'er I go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which wine is drunk, poker is played, and a monster is faced

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for all of Haven up through and including the end of S3, although this story does not follow exactly the storyline of S3. I've borrowed some episode dialogue where appropriate. One may also notice references to BSG, Doctor Who, Farscape, the Time Traveler's Wife, Buffy, The West Wing, various Nora Roberts novels, and anything else that's influenced me. The title of this piece comes from a line from John Green's book The Fault In Our Stars. Chapter title is a lyric from the song "Barton Hollow" by The Civil Wars. Haven belongs to SyFy, Sam and Jim, etc. Thanks to all the Havenites on Tumblr who continue to give me such great support, as well as all the reviewers here and at AO3. Huge shout out to my dear LadyCallie for betaing everything I've written for the last 13 years. Also huge thanks to my MamaK, the venerable rutsky, who encouraged me to write this and who has been reading this piece throughout it's development. Finally, HUGE thanks to Kitty Chandler and Adsartha Hammett, whose "Murderboards" blog has been instrumental in my research of this piece. Seriously, if you've never been there, their in depth analyses of the characters, locations, mythology, and episodes of Haven are genius.

Duke, Dwight, Audrey and Nathan were all crammed into Duke's tiny office in the back of the Gull. Between Dwight's own impressive collection of weaponry and things that Duke had "acquired" over the years, the office had been turned into a mobile command center, replete with a wireless transceiver and three pairs of headphones. Also in the office was a varied and impressive display of armaments. In addition to Audrey and Nathan's service weapons and a gun Duke swore was registered and legal, there were the tasers and flash grenades Audrey had mentioned, obtained by Dwight. They hadn't wanted to use any PD-issued devices in case "FauxClaire" was hanging around the station and caught wind of it all. They'd wanted equally to hide their exploits from any members of the Guard that might be skulking about, who would rather see Audrey gone from Haven regardless of the methods. They had been willing to use a frightened and angry little girl to manipulate Nathan into getting Audrey to go into the Barn, and that might’ve been one of their more benign plans.

_Jordan never said anything about Audrey being alive when she went in the Barn_ , Duke thought darkly as he and Nathan set up the equipment. Well, he was mostly setting up the equipment while Nathan fiddled and fussed and tried not to let the panic seep through. Duke knew the other man wasn't terribly keen on the plan. Though they hadn't spoken of it, Duke knew Nathan well, could read his moods and behaviors. They had known each other for almost thirty years, and however much Duke enjoyed antagonizing the Chief of Police and flaunting his own gross disrespect for the law, they were probably the closest thing each other had to a best friend, other than the blonde woman on the other side of the room getting wired up by Dwight.  _Not that either of us will ever admit i_ t, Duke thought ruefully.

Nathan was wound tighter than a spring in a jack in the box. Duke could almost see the tension radiating off of him. He'd seen the hard set lines in Nathan's face, the dark shadows under Audrey's slightly swollen eyes when they'd walked into the Gull and had found himself wondering if the fight had had a winner, or if it had been a draw. When Dwight walked in a few minutes later, he'd found the trio tossing back shots of whiskey, as Duke offered the toast  _"Bon courage_." The whiskey had put some much needed color in Audrey's cheeks and had ratcheted Nathan down from Defcon One. It had done the job of soothing Duke's own nerves as well. He wasn't any bigger a fan than Nathan was of sending Audrey unarmed to meet with a killer. That being said, he knew that Audrey had made her choice and that they needed to trust her, and respect it.

"So," Duke murmured to Nathan. "I've got a primo bottle of Johnnie Blue under the counter and I can get a couple strippers here in twenty minutes. Whaddya say we forget this whole thing and have a party?"

Nathan knew a lifeline when he'd been thrown one. For form, he glowered at Duke, but his lips twitched. "Maybe some other time," he replied. He turned his gaze to Audrey and saw her smiling affectionately at both of them.

Beside him, Duke shot her a cocky, confident grin, and she turned her attention back to Dwight, who was doing his best not to blush wildly as he ran the wire up under her tank top and taped it to her bare skin.

"Sorry, Audrey," he mumbled when his fingers brushed her ribs and made her jump.

"S'okay," she replied softly. "I'm just ticklish." He offered a small smile in response and resumed his task of carefully placing the wire so that it wouldn't come off or otherwise be exposed. She had chosen him to do it, because Nathan doing it would have made things too personal, and her Barn-instilled FBI training told her that personal feelings needed to be set aside as much as possible during Op-Prep. Duke, on the other hand, while capable, probably would have made a show of how much he was enjoying it, just to push Nathan's buttons, and she didn't want them at each others throats. Dwight was capable, respectful, and quiet.

"Thanks for doing this," she murmured.

"Anytime," he replied, tapping the microphone in place just next to her bra strap. Primly, he set her tank top back in place and shot her a final apologetic look before turning his attention to the other men. "We good for a test?" he asked Duke. At the man's nod, he said to Audrey, "Step out in the hall, give us a test."

She did as she was told, feeling self-conscious as she muttered "One, two, three, test." Her eyes darted around the hallway, and she wondered if this was what it felt like to be naked in front of the class on the day of the test you didn’t study for. Lately, her entire life felt that way.

"Zero points for creativity, Agent Officer Parker." Duke poked his head out and grinned, trying to charm a smile out of her. He was unsuccessful. "We're good. How are you holding up?" he asked when she walked back towards him.

Knowing she didn't have to keep anything from him, she dropped the calm demeanor she'd been trying to project for the last half hour. "Jumpy. I feel like I've got bugs under my skin, like I drank too much coffee." She ran her hands vigorously over her arms, trying to warm herself.

"Wanna 'nother shot?" He smirked, all boyish and impish charm.

She shook her head gratefully. "If it comes to it, I need to be able to aim my gun with some sort of accuracy."

Duke’s expression sobered. "Audrey, we are gonna get this son of a bitch, make him pay for what he did to Claire. To all those women." He held her by the upper arms, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "You're gonna be fine. Deputy Fife, me and Sasquatch, we got your back."

"I know," she said. "I’m not really worried about that. It's --"

"Everything okay?" Nathan asked, stepping out into the hall. For a split second, Audrey looked stricken and guilty. Then, as though it had never been there at all, she looked at him with confidence, with love. Her eyes glimmered and she gave him a small smile.  _I have chosen you_ , her eyes said.  _It is you I love_.

He wished Duke would buzz off. He had so many things he wanted to say to her -- most of them, he admitted to himself, were for his own reassurance as much as hers.

An almost manic smile graced Audrey’s face. "Yeah," she said with a brightness that almost sounded forced. "We're good."

Duke, for his part, shifted his eyes between Audrey and Nathan, observing their bi-play, the things unspoken that passed between them, the way their body language changed when the other was around. Though neither of them had mentioned anything, he was sure that his oldest friend and the woman Duke loved in ways that were too complicated to quantify had finally acted on what everyone else had known for months. He had rarely known a more perfect definition of the feeling bittersweet until that moment. Happy for them, furious with Nathan for beating him to it, sadness for what could have been, Duke let it all crash over him like a tsunami. He debated the merits of and the amusement he would get out of mentioning to Nathan what happened in Colorado.

As it was occurring to Duke that some secrets were worth keeping, if only for the reason that they were more special for not being shared, Audrey's eyes met his. In an instant, a thousand words passed between them, and he knew, even before she almost imperceptibly flicked her gaze towards Nathan, what she'd been going to say to him, ask of him.

_Protect him, don't let him do anything stupid. No one else dies or gets hurt because of me._

He could hear her voice as clearly in his head as if she'd spoken. He gave her a small, tight nod.

Nathan had seen the look she had given Duke, and knew he had interrupted something. Duke’s tiny nod confirmed Nathan's suspicions but he couldn't put his finger on what had passed between them. It wasn't jealousy he felt, Nathan realized, but rather apprehension, as though he'd just interrupted discussion of a plan he wasn't to be privy to.

"We should get moving," Audrey said. "She'll be here soon." She moved to brush by Nathan without touching him as she headed back into the office to gather her things. As she passed, Nathan reached out, grabbed her hand. In an unabashed public display that surprised them both, he leaned down and brushed his lips over hers.

"It's gonna be fine," he whispered, briefly resting his forehead against hers.

"I know," she said with a tiny smile. Then she slipped past him and disappeared into the office.

Nathan shot Duke a suspicious look. "What was that all about?"

"Well," Duke said sarcastically. "I think you kissed her because you're in love with her. I'm impressed, Nate. Didn't think you'd act on it before the next ice age." Misdirection was one of his specialities, Duke thought.

Nathan rolled his eyes and suddenly felt uncomfortable discussing his and Audrey's private life with Duke. "That's none of your business Crocker."

Duke held his hands up in appeasement. "It's all good, Nathan." When the other man gave him a look that clearly said Bullshit, he sighed. "Seriously. I'm not going to cause problems. Even with all this Bolt Gun Killer shit, the last week or so she's been lighter." Duke smiled. "You make her happy, and more importantly for my continued existence, she makes you happy. You happy means you're less likely to want to kill me."

Nathan considered this. "I dunno." He slapped Duke on the shoulder. "I might just enjoy it more."

Duke scowled, frowned. "Dammit."

Audrey stepped out of the office again, with Dwight following her. She had a lilac colored hoodie over her white tank. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders. She looked like a regular girl. Not a cop about to face a killer, not a supernatural immortal savior of a cursed New England town -- she was just a girl. No one looking at her would have guessed she was wearing a surveillance wire or had a small clutch piece strapped to the inside of her left leg under her jeans.

She'd have given anything to be a regular girl, to just be here for a couple drinks with her friends, to go upstairs after with the man she loved, pleasantly drunk and foolish and giddy with happiness. To have her job, her friends, to make time for hobbies. But she wasn't a regular girl. She was immortal, or reincarnated, or something else even more bizarre, inextricably tied to the town and its curse, it's people. A regular girl wouldn't be about to disappear into some mystical magical barn in the next forty-eight hours; a regular girl wouldn't be about to go toe to toe with a killer who wore the face of a friend, in a disgustingly literal sense. Normal women did not have their friends husked and filleted by Skinwalkers. Her life, however long it had been, was often exhausting.

"Ready?" Nathan asked, evenly.

Audrey nodded with determination. "Ready."

Over her shoulder, Dwight passed her two small pills. "They'll counteract what we put in the wine. That way you can drink and not give anything away."

She considered the pills. "Remind me to always bring my own drinks to whatever parties you're throwing." He chuckled and she tossed the pills back, dry-swallowing them.

"Get her talking, get her dosed, wait for it to kick in," Nathan said, as though she had never heard the plan before. "We’ll be listening in the whole time."

"I got it," she replied, cheekily pointing to herself with her thumbs. "Plan girl." Rubbing her hands together, she flashed them a smile so full of false confidence and cockiness that it mirrored the best Duke could summon. "See you on the other side." Without another word or glance, she slipped by Duke and Nathan and went out.

Duke felt Nathan twitch, as though he were going to make a move to follow her. He clamped a hand down on Nathan's shoulder as Dwight went back inside the office. "Let her go," he said softly, knowing full well it was one lesson Nathan might never learn. "Who knows where the Skinwalker is. If she sees you, it'll put Audrey in more danger." Reason, especially when Audrey's safety was concerned, was sometimes the only thing that could get through Nathan's thick skull.

"That's why we stashed your car in the garage, remember?" Duke smirked, trying to diffuse the tension he saw on the other man’s face. "That big blue beast isn't exactly covert, my friend."

Nathan knew Duke was right, but it didn't make the waiting any easier, didn't make the raw panic he felt at sending her into danger alone any less potent. He felt as though he was clinging on to the edge of a cliff by his fingernails, and he was slipping -- rapidly. He'd spent a lot of his life not feeling anything, physically, and trying not to feel anything emotionally. With Audrey, sometimes he felt too much of both and thought he might drown from it.

Unable to respond, he turned to follow Dwight into Duke’s office. His phone buzzed in his pocket. Curious, he took it out to check. On the display, he saw a simple text from Audrey.

**ILY**

It wasn't a bulletproof vest, it wasn't a promise of safety, but it was an anchor, and he snatched hold of it. Taking a deep breath, he took a seat at Duke's desk and put on a pair of headphones.

"Nothing yet," Dwight said as Duke put on his own headphones.

Duke sighed, pulled a deck of cards out of his pocket and began to deal. "Five card, Aces high, no Jacks. Winner buys drinks when this is over." If they were going to wait, they could at least keep themselves busy.

In her apartment, Audrey had to force herself not to pace. She sipped the wine, the last from an already open bottle in her fridge, hoping it would calm her down. She wondered if Dwight's pills were making her feel so jumpy, and if they were counteracting the alcohol. She sighed, wishing they'd thought to get some sort of tiny two way device, so they could talk to her while she waited. So she wouldn't be so alone.

There were more things in her life lately that felt like punishments instead of blessings. While she was very good at helping the Troubled it was starting to feel like she'd been born to do nothing else but it made her weary down to her bones to be the only one immune. To be the only one who didn't fall into a coma, who noticed the altered timeline, who couldn't get mind warped by scared and angry little girls. Even though she had Nathan by her side -- always by her side -- and sometimes she had Duke as well, it was hard not to feel completely isolated. She lived in a beautiful village that sometimes felt as though it were out of a horror story, and she was rarely physically alone. This apartment had been a refuge, a quiet place to think. Now sitting in it, waiting for a killer who wore her friend like an old suit, it felt like anything but.

She looked to the bed where, in the last week, she hasn't slept alone. Nathan. They'd danced around it for so long too long. It seemed cruel, somehow, that the Universe would put them in each others' lives, only to rip them apart. Two more days, that was all she had left, with any of the people she loved and cared about Nathan and Duke, even Vince and Dave. The brothers Teague. They had been to Sarah what Nathan and Duke had been to her, as she suspected what Garland and James had been to Lucy. Was it hard for them to see her and know everything they'd shared, everything they'd experienced did not live in her memory? Vince had told her she always came back the same, underneath it all, but without her real memories and experiences, who was she?

Blithely, Audrey wondered how Howard -- she presumed it was him, or the Barn, or both -- selected the women who were selected, who were chosen to be the template on which she was modeled cycle after cycle. A nurse who had seen war, a journalist who didn’t know when to stop looking, an FBI agent, whoever else she had been before, they all had traits that were supposed to help her through that particular round of the Troubles. Original Audrey’s memories -- bad foster homes, horrific FBI cases -- had served Audrey well this time in Haven. From all accounts, this round of the Troubles was as bad as it had ever been. She needed to be made of strong stuff to survive it. Truth be told, it had almost broken her. Had it not been for Nathan and Duke, and fleeting friends like Eleanor, Julia, and Claire, she might’ve broken. But her boys, who were downstairs even now watching over her -- as such -- and those women had been her own kind of haven. Audrey wondered what her original self was like, whoever she had been, however long ago.  Were the recurring traits -- the loneliness, the self sufficiency, the intuition and compassion, having very few people whom she could trust but trusting those individuals implicitly and without reservation -- was that who she really was, underneath it all?

On a groan, Audrey got off the couch and tossed the wine down the sink, then set about opening the doctored bottle. This was not the time for an existential crisis. The Killer would be here any minute. She busied herself starting a fire, and was setting some cheese and crackers on a plate when she heard the telltale footsteps out on her deck.

"Show time," she murmured to the men downstairs. It took all her control to keep her hands steady, as they wanted to shake not with fear, but with rage.

"It's open!" She yelled at the short, polite knock on the French doors. She heard them open, heard Claire’s heels click on the hardwood.  _Not Claire_ , she scolded herself. She had to stop thinking of her as Claire. Claire was dead, and this monster wore her like some hideous costume. Whoever this was, it wasn’t Claire Callahan, who dressed up like Buffy the Vampire Slayer for Halloween and loaned Audrey her push up bra because she thought it would get Nathan’s attention. This was a killer who has murdered dozens of people and ruined dozens more lives, all on some bizarre quest to build a woman.

“Hey,” the Killer said with a smile in her voice, crossing the apartment.

Audrey fixed what she hoped was a cheerful smile on her face. “Hey yourself,” she replied, reaching for some wine glasses. “How’s it going?”

“Oh, y’know,” the Killer replied, leaning casually against the counter. “I spent 12 hours passed out in my desk chair.” She nudged Audrey with a friendly bump of her hip and it took all of Audrey’s willpower not to bash the wine bottle over her head. “So spill -- what the hell happened today?”

Audrey handed her a glass of wine, picked up the plate of cheese and crackers, and crossed to the couch. She had to keep moving, keep busy.  _Don’t think, act,_  she ordered herself. “Actually, it ended up being one of the Bolt Gun Killer’s victims,” she said, taking a calculated risk. She wouldn’t give up Will’s name, and would put protection on him later, in case the Killer went after him to clean up loose ends.

“Oh?” the Killer said casually, sipping the laced wine. “How does that work?”

Audrey eyed the wine glass, trying to gauge how much the Skinwalker had consumed. “Apparently the Killer went after him and his girlfriend, ambushed them in the woods. He killed the woman, took what parts he needed. But he decked my Troubled guy with the gun, put him in a coma. His family was sending him home to die in peace when his Trouble kicked in.”

“We were all in comas?” the Killer exclaimed, chuckling. She reached over, selected a slice of cheese and a cracker. “That’s Haven for you. Never a dull moment.”

Audrey forced herself to smile in acknowledgement and sipped her wine. “Speaking of the Killer, you said you had more thoughts about his profile?”

“Yeah,” the Killer said brightly, sounding so much like Claire it made Audrey ache for her lost friend. But there was something edgier about this version of her -- harder lines, different body language, an edge in her voice. Too bright, too cheerful, a forced affect -- someone playing a part. “Actually, it was what I was working on before I apparently fell into a coma.”

Audrey gestured to the files she and Nathan had brought over from the station that were spread all over her coffee table. “Here’s everything we’ve got.”

“Great!” The Killer selected a file at random, began perusing. Audrey did the same, opening a file, looking at words she couldn’t see. Inside she was seething, bubbling with rage. Her skin crawled as though she was covered in bugs. Part of her wished she hadn’t taken Dwight’s antidote against the wine; she needed something to soothe her nerves. Her memories that had belonged to the Original Audrey, they included all manner of horrific things, things the woman had seen during her time as an FBI agent. But that Audrey had never dealt with a friend being murdered, burned and filleted, husked and left to rot while a monster walked around inside her skin.

The Killer tossed down her file and sighed. Her wine sat untouched but for that first sip. “Audrey, you’re not talking,” she said, trying to sound like a shrink. She rested her chin in one hand and leveled Audrey with a gaze.

Audrey avoided the woman’s eyes, shuffling papers in her file. She smiled dismissively. “I wasn’t aware that this was a session. I thought you were here to help me with the Skinwalker case.”

“I know what you’re not saying,” the Killer said.

Down in Duke’s office, Nathan froze. Duke slanted him a glance, saw the other man’s hand resting on the butt of his gun. “Let her play it out,” he murmured. The cop’s hand didn’t relax, but he didn’t get up out of his chair either.

Up in the apartment, the Killer frowned at herself. “Even when you’re not not saying it.”

“What am I not not saying?” Audrey asked, treading the line between amused and suspicious. Had the game been given away that quickly?

“You only have a few days left before you go,” the person with Claire’s face said, leaning forward in a show of empathy. “We should talk about that.”

Downstairs, Nathan released a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. Duke and Dwight exchanged looks, but said nothing.

_Bait the hook,_  Audrey thought to herself. The best lies were rooted in truth. “What if I want to talk about not going? If I can catch the Skinwalker, then maybe he can tell me about the Barn, and the Colorado Kid, and -- me.” _Do you know who I am?_  Audrey thought. _Do you know what I really am? Who I really am? What I did to deserve this?_  “Maybe I don’t have to go away.” She could hear the hope in her own voice, and it wasn't a lie.

She watched the Skinwalker consider her words, ponder them. Was it trying to think of what Claire would say? Was it trying to sound like a shrink? Like a friend? It seemed to be at a loss for words. Giving it a sour smile, Audrey said, “Session over. Mission accomplished.” Chew on that, she thought.

“Fair enough,” the Skinwalker said, picking up her file. Audrey picked up her wine and sipped it, hoping the Killer would as well. “Where were we?”

Audrey looked down at the file in her lap. “Vince and Dave.” The Terrible Teagues. They were Troubled, she was sure of it. Either that, or they were just evil geniuses who got off on knowing everything and sharing nothing. Maybe they were Troubled and evil geniuses. Convinced the antidote to the sedative was making her loopy, Audrey shook her head to regain focus. Reading her notes, she said “The Skinwalker tortured them for info.”

The Killer nodded, “Grilled them about the Colorado Kid and the Barn.”

Gotcha. Audrey frowned, “I don’t remember them mentioning the Barn.” She had been sure they were keeping something from her -- they always were. Looks like the Barn was it.

“Sure they did,” the Skinwalker said casually.

Audrey slanted her a glance. “Right, no, you’re probably right.”

“Something’s wrong,” Nathan said.

Duke rolled his eyes. “Listen, Nate, if you can’t be a cop about this...”

“Shut up,” Nathan snapped. “I’m sure. Load up,” he ordered Dwight. The large man nodded and stood, began strapping on his bullet proof vest.

“I just, you know,” Audrey said, flipping through the pages of the file. “The Barn being the place that I go in to, the place that I probably die...” She let her voice trail off, hoped the boys were paying attention.

“That’s it,” Nathan said, checking the clip on his weapon. “That’s the signal.”

“Really?” Duke asked, checking his own weapon. “Everything that goes on in Haven and you picked the codeword ‘die?’”

“It was Audrey talking about her own death,” Nathan replied flatly, unable to meet Duke’s eyes.

Dwight slipped a second gun into the holster at his belt, next to the taser. “What would you have picked?”

“I dunno,” Duke shrugged. “Something that wouldn’t come up in everyday conversation, like the 1986 Red Sox or something.”

Nathan glowered, “Right, because Audrey and Claire used to talk about twenty-five year old sports teams all the time.”

Up in the apartment, Audrey turned away from the Skinwalker, brushed her leg against the couch to feel the reassuring weight of her ankle clutch piece.

“Audrey, hush,” the Skinwalker said.

_Hush, hush, hush._  Will had heard it, Roslyn had said it. Hush hush hush.

“What I mean is,” the Killer continued. “We can’t worry about things we can’t control.” Her voice was no longer trying to be Claire’s. There was something dark and flat about it now. “So let’s just get back to finding this monster.”

Audrey wondered if Claire was there, what she’d say about the Skinwalker referring to itself as a monster.

“Audrey?”

She turned and forced a cheerful smile to her face, hoping Nathan had heard the code word and that they were on their way.

The Skinwalker pulled a gun from behind her back. “What gave me away?”

“Go,” Nathan ordered, striding out of the office with Duke and Dwight hot on his heels.


	8. violence and variations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which shots are fired, truths are revealed, and pet names are given (and kiboshed)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler Warning: Spoilers for all of Haven up through and including the end of S3, although this story does not follow exactly the storyline of S3. I've borrowed some episode dialogue where appropriate. One may also notice references to BSG, Doctor Who, Farscape, the Time Traveler's Wife, Buffy, The West Wing, various Nora Roberts novels, and anything else that's influenced me. The title of this piece comes from a line from John Green's book The Fault In Our Stars. Chapter title is song from the S3 Battlestar Galactica Soundtrack.
> 
> Acknowledgements: Haven belongs to SyFy, Sam and Jim, etc. Thanks to all the Havenites on Tumblr and Twitter who continue to give me such great support, as well as all the reviewers here and at AO3. Huge shout out to my dear LadyCallie for betaing everything I've written for the last 13 years. Also huge thanks to my MamaK, the venerable rutsky, who encouraged me to write this and who has been reading this piece throughout it's development. Finally, HUGE thanks to Kitty Chandler and Adsartha Hammett, whose"Murderboards" blog has been instrumental in my research of this piece. Seriously, if you've never been there, their in depth analyses of the characters, locations, mythology, and episodes of Haven are genius. Also, they get 100% for the phrase "Fucking Haven."
> 
> Continuity: We're still at the end of the coma day; it's that night.

She considered playing dumb, stretching it out, but knew that would serve no purpose. After months of charades, they were finally face to face, speaking plainly. Audrey decided to use that to her advantage. No better opportunity for honesty then when you were staring down the barrel of a serial killer's gun. "You killed her. You killed Claire."

The Skinwalker shrugged, unphased. "She was a fighter. I can see why you two got along."

_She was a fighter_. The words ripped at Audrey as she imagined Claire's death in vivid detail. Tears filled her eyes and she allowed herself the briefest of moments to mourn her dead friend.

At the base of the stairs, the three men listened in on mobile earpieces. "That son of a bitch," Duke muttered.

"How do you want to play this, boss?" Dwight asked, double checking the fastenings on his vest.

Nathan gripped his gun. He wanted to tell them to charge in, go in hot with the flash and smoke grenades. He wanted to tell Dwight to line up a shot and blow the Skinwalker's head off. But he knew Audrey wanted answers, need them. They both did. Not only because the Skinwalker was apparently hell-bent on finding their son, but also for the information about Audrey it knew. "We hold. Let Audrey play it out a little longer. We go up, but we don't engage." He took a deep breath. "Let's move."

Audrey gulped back her tears. "You've done pretty well, faking it."

"She taped all of your sessions," the Skinwalker said in a soft voice. It was almost reverent, thankful. "She kept excellent notes. I wish everyone made it that easy." The Skinwalker smirked, Claire's lips and face controlled by a monster. Claire's eyes looked back at her, but they were dark and blank, a killer's eyes.

"You're a monster," Audrey spat.

"No!" The Skinwalker lost all pretense of still being Claire. It stood, glaring at Audrey and pointing the gun very close to her face. "I'm the victim. Your victim." It walked a few feet away, casually, as though they were old girlfriends, catching up. Audrey wondered how quickly she could access her clutch piece.

"You know," the Skinwalker said cheerfully. "It took me a long time to believe that you don't remember who you are, what you did when you were Lucy."

Nathan and Duke exchanged glances, but said nothing, quietly tiptoeing up the stairs.

"I don't remember any of it." Audrey's voice was low, deadly and insistent. "So tell me what you want with the Colorado Kid and the Barn. What do you want with my son?"

The Skinwalker, gun still pointed in Audrey's direction, circled the couch, it's steps measured, its eyes never losing sight of Audrey. "Your son knows how to stop the Troubles."

On the deck, Duke tripped. Nathan cursed under his breath.

The Skinwalker's eyes darted to the doors. "Your little boyfriends been spying on us for some backup?" With a quick move, she shot several bullets through the window to the left of the doors. "Better stay back boys!" she yelled. "Or the Queen of the Troubled is going to have a few holes in her."

She gestured with the gun. "Move the table in front of the door. I want us to have a little chat first, just us girls."

Audrey sighed, walked over to her second hand table and began pushing towards the door. The antique lamp and candles she had been using as a centerpiece shifted, rolled, and shattered as she slid the solid wood table across the floors. She silently apologized to Duke for the damage this was causing his floor.

"Parker?" Nathan called at the sound of the glass breaking, of the table scraping across the floor.

"Tell them to stay away," the Killer hissed, jamming her gun into Audrey's back. "You call for help, and I'll make sure he stays dead this time."

"Stay back, Nathan," Audrey called. "I've got it." She slanted a look at the Killer. "We're good."

The Killer chuckled bitterly. "'I've got it,' Always so perfect, always think you know what's best for everyone. Well you  _don't_!"

It was the first time Audrey could say she genuinely saw insanity in the Killer's eyes. It was almost like being looked at by an animal that was terrified for it's life, and all it knew how to do was attack.

The Killer began checking the windows, making sure no one was lurking outside them, that they were taking her threat seriously. She thought she saw a shadow move past the windows next to the refrigerator and shot twice out both windows. "I mean it, fellas, you better stay away."

"Audrey!" Nathan called from the outside, terror dripping from her name.

"She's fine, lover boy," the Skinwalker taunted. "I haven't killed her - yet."

Duke crouched next to Dwight, whose vest had taken the bullets. "Damn, that's a fun Trouble you've got there," he remarked.

"Kept you from getting shot," Dwight grunted. He moved into a crouch, trying to stay below the window line as best he could, and they began making their way back to Nathan.

Audrey watched the Killer, thinking that more and more it was resembling a trapped animal. Trapped animals lashed out, could kill indiscriminately. "What did Lucy do to you? Who are you?"

The Skinwalker whipped around and glared at Audrey with Claire's blue eyes. "Arla Cogan. I'm James's wife."

Audrey goggled, genuinely shocked. "You're the Skinwalker? But, why?"

Arla sank down into one of the wooden dining chairs as tears filled Claire's eyes. Still, she pointed the gun at Audrey. "When James comes out of the Barn, I want him to look like the woman he loved - who he  _still_  loves." A tear spilled down Claire's left cheek. "Not as some freak."

"There has to have been another way," Audrey protested, mulling over Arla's certainty that James was in the Barn. "Was it really worth killing all those women, just to get that face?"

"It's your fault!" Arla hissed, punctuating her words by lunging out of her chair and getting in Audrey's face. "Their deaths are on your hands. If Lucy had kept her promise, none of this would have happened!"

"Arla!" Nathan bellowed from outside the french doors. "Ditch the weapon and let Audrey go or we're coming in." Dimly, one part of his mind registered that the woman in there wearing Claire's skin was his daughter-in-law. _Fucking Haven_ , he thought.

"You think you're faster than me, Wuornos?" Arla replied. "You've spent months three steps behind me. You never even knew when I was right under your nose - twice. You really think you're gonna win the third time around?"

"Let's try it and find out," he retorted, cocking his gun.

"Nathan, just wait!" Audrey cried. She could see that Arla was unstable enough to start shooting at random, and she didn't want anyone getting hurt. She was also desperate to find out what Arla knew and if Nathan, Duke and Dwight came in guns blazing, they might never find their answers. "How is this all my fault?" she asked Arla calmly, her voice steady despite the pounding of her heart. "Why do you think James is in the Barn?"

"Because that's where Lucy brought him," she said, eyes wild. "After James was murdered, Lucy promised to bring both of us into the Barn with her. She said once we were in there, the restorative properties that kept her alive - kept you alive - would bring James back."

_So that's how my handwriting ended up inside the Colorado Kid's coffin after Vince buried him_ , Audrey thought. "You were in the Barn twenty-seven years ago?" She wanted to ask where it was, what it was like on the inside. She wanted to know everything she could before it showed up in the next thirty-six hours.

Arla looked down at the floor, her eyes unseeing. "Before the Barn arrived, my Troubled kicked in. I was in my hotel and my skin..." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "Just started to slide off, strip by strip until there was nothing left." Her voice broke and Audrey found that she felt truly sorry for the woman, for her Trouble. "I was just a raw, oozing thing." Arla spat it out.

It was a horrifying mental image, a horrifying thought. Audrey wondered if it had hurt. No wonder Arla had gone mad. "So you killed an innocent young woman so you had some skin to wear?"

"It was instinct! And I didn't have a choice!" Arla protested. "I couldn't let James see me like that! But Lucy didn't understand, and she tricked me. She brought James to the Barn alone, and by the time I got there, I couldn't get in. I pounded on the door, I begged, but the Barn disappeared, and took my husband with it."

Audrey took a deep breath. "So Lucy left you behind."

Aral shook her head, as though she was trying to shake out the cobwebs. "None of that matters. The storm's almost here. You're going to summon that Barn, and return my husband to me."

"What makes you think in your wildest dreams that I would ever hand my son over to you?" Audrey found her own anger bubbling again. Yes, this woman had endured some truly horrific things, but that her first instinct had been to kill spoke volumes as to just how deranged she was.

"Because he knows how to end the Troubles, for good." Arla smiled beatifically. "He told me Lucy found out a way to save herself from the Barn and still end the Troubles - forever. You don't want to go away, right? You want to stay here with Nathan. He could feel again. Duke could be set free from his legacy. And you can stay here. Take me to James, and you don't have to worry about going away again."

Together with Dwight out on the deck, Nathan and Duke exchanged glances. Both men could see that the other was considering what Arla was saying. Not just that James knew what Lucy had known, but that there was a way to end the Troubles permanently. At the very least, that Arla believed there was.

Audrey, for her part, regarded Arla speculatively. "You're lying."

"No I'm not! I am not a liar!" She was shrieking it now, a wild, feral thing.

"Arla!" Duke called, wondering if the woman was unravelling quickly now. "What are you doing?"

"I'm getting my husband back!" she screamed, turning towards the door. "She took him away from me! The selfish bitch thought she was better than me, that James didn't deserve me. Well he does!" She shot wildly, narrowly missing grazing Audrey's temple. The crack of the bullet rang in her ears. Arla looked surprised, as though the gun had fired on its own. Seeing an opportunity, Audrey dropped and quickly pulled the clutch piece from her ankle. She leveled the weapon at Arla.

"You bitch!" Arla hollered, and charged Audrey. Audrey pulled the trigger on the tiny pistol.

"Audrey!" Nathan yelled at hearing the gunshots. He charged the door before Duke and Dwight could stop him, but it was locked. Panicked, he shot out the deadbolt and tried pushing the door open, but the table was in his way. "We have to find another way in!" he hissed.

Arla had knocked in to Audrey and tackled her to the ground. The bullet missed her, and the force of the woman's tackle sent Audrey's gun skittering across the room. Arla pinned Audrey to the ground, backhanding her. "Do you really think after all this time I'd let you and the Hardy Boys stop me? After all I've done?" She hauled Audrey to her feet by her hair, positioning Audrey in front of her as a human shield. Wildly, she pulled them in circles around the room, knowing she was exposed by the windows.

"Last chance Arla," Dwight called as he and Duke circled the apartment, looking for a vantage point through one of the back windows, a taser in one hand and a gun in the other. Audrey had asked for the Skinwalker to be captured alive, but all three men were prepared for using deadly force if it meant saving Audrey's life.

"I mean it! I'll kill her!" Arla warned the men outside. "Anyone comes in here, and I drop her before any of you drop me."

"No you won't," Audrey murmured. "If you kill me, you'll never see James again. The Barn only comes when I call it, and you know it." She didn't know if what she was saying was true, but it felt true.

"Shut up!" Arla shrieked, pulling harder at Audrey's hair, causing her to cry out. Arla used Audrey's hair to yank her backwards. "Why do you always have to ruin everything?"

"You won't hurt my son," Audrey said.

"Hurt him?" Claire's eyes were wild, full of hurt and shock and hate. "I love him! You stupid bitch. Why can't you understand that?"

"I think you think you love him," Audrey said slowly, knowing she was facing a walking bomb. "But do you think he's going to thank you for killing two dozen women, just so you can have the same face?"

"Time will tell," Arla hissed as a window to their right shattered. "Bye bye, Mommy Dearest," the deranged woman said, leveling the gun so that Audrey was looking down it's barrel. She shut her eyes and waited for the burn of the bullet, for the nothingness. _I'm sorry Nathan,_  she thought. _I was wrong._

But instead of a gunshot, she felt the butt of the gun crash against her the back of her head. The blow sent her crumpling to the ground while her vision swam with stars. She knew nothing but the blinding pain and the sickly dark. Dimly, she heard more glass shattering, mens' shouting voices. She felt Nathan's hand on her, cool and soothing, and heard a hale of gunfire off in the distance.

He was calling her name. She felt him lift her into his arms and settle her on the couch. As the pain in her head began to ebb and the oily darkness that had slicked across her vision began to fade, she felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu that had nothing to do with getting pistol-whipped by her homicidal, skin-wearing daughter-in-law.

"Come on back, sweetie," Nathan said urgently, trailing his fingers gently over her cheek.

She grimaced and struggled to open her eyes. "Did you just call me 'sweetie?'" she asked, groaning as she tried to sit up. She fixed one eye on him, then the other, then both. There was only one of him, which she took as a good sign. "We need to have a serious discussion about acceptable pet names."

Her bleary eyes met his intense blue ones and she tried giving him a small smile to back up her jests, to show him she was fine, except for the mother of all headaches. He had her hands in his and kissed the tops of them.

"Welcome back," he said. "We gotta stop doing this." His lips twitched into a slight smirk and she smiled back at him.

"Yeah, tell me about it," she replied, nudging him out on the way so she could sit up properly. When her head only swam a little, she took it as a sign that the concussion wasn't too severe. "Am I bleeding?"

His face set in tight lines, Nathan gently moved her hair aside. She hissed as his fingers brushed over the spot where she'd been hit. "No blood," he said apologetically. "But you're gonna have a hell of an egg back there."

"Always knew you had a hard head," Duke quipped as he and Dwight stepped into the apartment; Dwight was pocketing both of their wireless headsets.

"Where is she?" Nathan asked, gently beginning the process of removing Audrey's surveillance wire. Dwight had done a good job; for as physical as the fight had been, it hadn't budged.

"Gone," Dwight said, picking Nathan's headset off the floor where it had fallen when he'd picked up Audrey. "Swan-dived off the back balcony into the Cove."

"We shot into the water," Duke explained from her kitchen as he fixed Audrey a glass of water. "But I'd bet we'll be seeing her again." Crossing the apartment with quick, efficient strides, he offered her the glass.

"Safe bet," she replied, accepting the water. She smiled when he handed her an ice pack and a bottle of aspirin next. Had it only been a week ago that they'd been doing this, she and Duke and Claire and Nathan after she'd collapsed? It felt like months. It felt like yesterday.

Time is the fire in which we burn. The words popped into her head, unbidden. She had a flash of Arla and James, happy and in love on their wedding day, like the picture in Colorado. Another flash, Arla tear-streaked and begging please please take me with you. Let me be with my husband. Another flash, Arla running towards her, the woman's eyes full of murder and betrayal, her mouth screaming curses and rage. A door shut, and then there was...nothing.

Duke's voice snapped her back into reality. "So, it's been Arla all along?" He sat in the armchair that Arla-as-Claire had occupied not fifteen minutes earlier. It seemed to Audrey that time was moving almost too fast to keep up, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

"And she's been in Haven all this time?" Dwight asked.

"No one in Colorado ever saw her again after the Colorado Kid's murder," Audrey replied. "There was some speculation she'd killed herself. I think she either came to Haven with James or followed him here."

"She blames you," Nathan said as he held the ice pack to the back of her head.

"She said Lucy betrayed her, lied to her. Lucy did something," Audrey frowned. "I can't get at the memories, exactly, but they're there."

"Probably better you don't, given that nice concussion she just gave you," Duke observed. "Wouldn't want your head to explode. And since this is Haven, that can actually be a thing." His face was mock serious, stern as a school marm's.

She rewarded him with a smile.

Unable to sit still, he reached out and began folding a piece of paper from the coffee table into a paper airplane. "Hell of a reunion with your daughter-in-law, eh?" His voice was full of cheek; he was always willing to make her laugh when times got hard.

Audrey exchanged sideways glances with Nathan, saw his nearly imperceptible nod. She took his hand and looked at Dwight and Duke. "Our daughter-in-law."

Dwight, to his credit, said nothing, but couldn't quite keep his eyebrows from shooting towards the ceiling.

Duke, for his part, wasted no time in going completely berserk. He shot to his feet, his paper airplane utterly forgotten. "Wait, what? I thought Sarah was James Cogan's mother, when did...?" He glared at Nathan, his eyes wide as realization dawned. "Jesus, you didn't waste any time, did you? I let you out of my sight for an hour and you and Sarah..." He threw his hands up. "I mean, I gotta give you credit for being spontaneous, and kudos to your little swimmers, but are you nuts?" He rounded in Audrey. "And you! How long have you known? When were you going to tell me? Does Arla know?" He began pacing. "No of course she doesn't know. If she knew she wouldn't have shot Nathan, she'd have used him as leverage against you..." He leveled the couple on the couch with a glare. "You two can sure keep a fucking secret."

Audrey and Nathan tried to look contrite, apologetic, sober, something. It was Audrey who cracked first, the giggle squeaking past her lips. Before Duke knew what was happening, she had dissolved into a fit of laughter. She curled into herself and clutched at her stomach, her slightly hysterical laughter echoing off the apartment walls. Nathan, for his part, merely grinned.

"What?" Duke asked, baffled. "Are you guys punking me?"

"No," Nathan said, his grin changing to a smirk as he attempted to keep the ice pack against Audrey's head as she writhed with laughter. "It's true. Your little display though...impressive."

"I think it was more of a tirade," Dwight quipped.

Audrey guffawed, gasping for breath.

Duke arched an eyebrow at Nathan. "Has she finally lost it?"

"S'possible," Nathan replied.

"Ow!" Audrey exclaimed, grabbing at her head. "Stop making me laugh, you assholes!"

Dwight observed the giggling blonde woman, "As fun as this show is, if it's all the same to the rest of you, I'm gonna pack up and head out."

Nathan abandoned the ice pack and stood to shake the other man's hand. "Thanks."

Dwight nodded, glanced once more Audrey's way in amusement, and left.

She took deep breaths, trying to calm down. She was stressed, starving, exhausted, probably had a low grade concussion and her life had become absolutely absurd. When she looked at Nathan and Duke, she found them staring at her speculatively. "I haven't lost my mind," she promised soberly. "I think."

"Whatever," Duke said dismissively. "The Colorado Kid is your son - like, the both of you, but with past lives and Troubles and time travel."

"Basically," Nathan replied.

"Fucking Haven." Duke still looked fairly gobsmacked. He looked at Nathan. "Should I offer you a cigar?"

"I for one would love a cup of coffee," Audrey said. "And food. I've been living on energy bars all day and whatever Dwight gave me to combat the sedative - that affected Arla not at all, by the way - has made me all sorts of hungry."

"I can get some lobster rolls, burgers and fries, whatever, together downstairs," Duke offered.

"Make it to go," Nathan said. "We're gonna go back to my place." Before Audrey could open her mouth to argue, he cut her off. "Seriously. After today, I'm not letting you out of my sight and those doors aren't secure."

Although she wanted to argue, if only on principle, Audrey really just wanted comfy clothes, a hot shower, a meal, and some sleep. "Yeah, okay."

Duke looked at the two of them. To say his friends looked like death warmed over was putting it mildly. He pointed at Nathan, "Sharp cheddar burger with bacon, medium rare, onions, extra barbecue sauce and a side of fries?"

Nathan nodded, genuinely impressed Duke remembered his favorite order.

Duke flashed them a grin, hoping Audrey had suddenly lost her sense of smell, or that Nathan was fastidious about brushing his teeth. "And a lobster roll and fries for Officer Agent Parker. Coming right up." He looked around the apartment, at the damage. "Audrey, I'll have Manny and a few of the guys come and clean this all up. By tomorrow night, it'll look good as new."

She smiled, "Thanks Duke."

He smiled back, and ducked out of the apartment. Audrey's head dropped back against the couch and she winced when she hit the bump on her head. "Longest. Day. Ever," she groaned.

"What about your Groundhog Day?" Nathan asked, coming to stand behind her and massage her shoulders. He nudged the purple hoodie down her shoulders to give himself better access to her skin.

She moaned softly, "Oh my god, you are so hired. And yeah, Groundhog day sucked, what with all of you dying on me and me not sleeping for five days. But today - today was a bad one." There had been too many bad days lately, it seemed, and not enough good ones.

He leaned down, kissed the top of her head. "Pack a bag and we'll go home."

Home. He said it so casually, so nonchalantly, and a warmth spread through her. Slowly, she stood up from the couch, assessed that she had only minimal vertigo, and walked towards her closet. Without really paying much attention, she threw a pair of jeans and a pair of slacks, a couple tanks and henlys, and a blazer in the general direction of the bed. She moved to her dresser and pulled out some underwear, bras, and socks. Desperately wanting to be comfortable and out of the clothes that she'd just worn to a gunfight with a serial killer, she yanked yoga pants and fuzzy socks out of the drawers. "Duffle bag's under the bed," she said to Nathan before disappearing behind the bathroom door.

In the bathroom, she splashed some cold water on her face to clear the cobwebs. Between the concussion, the antidote to the sedative, the wine, her hunger and her exhaustion, she felt a right mess. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, the water dripping from her face, she concluded that she looked even worse than she felt. Mechanically, she stripped out of her jeans, tank top and bra and pulled on the stretchy pants and fluffy socks. Leaving the old clothes in a pile on the bathroom floor, she trudged out, suddenly bone weary. She grabbed his grey flannel shirt from the bedpost and began slowly buttoning it.

Out of nowhere it seemed, because she was so lost in thought, his hands covered hers. "Let me," he whispered. She looked up into his face and nodded. His long fingers steadily worked the buttons on the shirt. "You've got a decent bruise on your ribs," he said softly. "Does it hurt?"

She shook her head, "I'm just sore. All over. I want food, a hot shower, and lots of sleep."

"That can be arranged," he said, lowering his lips to hers. Her lips felt soft, and a sigh escaped them. Their earlier kisses had been so full of anger and pain. All that was behind them, at least for now. Tonight, he just wanted her to rest. They both needed rest. The day's events - coma included - had left him feeling drained. Tomorrow was his last day with her before the meteor shower. He still clung to the belief that they would find a way to keep her in Haven, but if the worst happened, he wanted tomorrow to be beautiful. Perfect.

He rested his forehead against hers, trailed his fingers up and down her back and breathed her in.

"Food. Shower. Sleep." she said.

"You got it," he replied. Squeezing her hand, he shouldered the duffle he'd left sitting on the floor by the bed. He watched as she silently moved around the apartment, slipping on a pair of Uggs, shutting off lamps and picking up little things that had scattered in the fight. They'd collect her badge and service weapon from Duke's office.

She trailed her fingers across the piano that she hadn't known she knew how to play. Nathan was standing by the door, watching her, patiently waiting for her. He'd been waiting for her for such a long time, she thought. Maybe she'd been waiting for him too.

With that thought in her mind, she looked around her apartment. She couldn't shake the feeling that it was the last time she was going to see it. Audrey met Nathan's eyes and smiled a tiny smile. She let him take her hand as he flicked off the lights. Together, they turned and walked away from her apartment.


	9. waking up this heart of mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a whole lot of sex is had, pancakes are eaten, and hooky is played.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler Warning: Spoilers for all of Haven up through and including the end of S3, although this story does not follow exactly the storyline of S3. I've borrowed some episode dialogue where appropriate. One may also notice references to BSG, Doctor Who, Farscape, the Time Traveler's Wife, Buffy, The West Wing, various Nora Roberts novels, and anything else that's influenced me. The title of this piece comes from a line from John Green's book The Fault In Our Stars. Chapter title is from "Home Again" by Daena Jay.
> 
> Acknowledgements: Haven belongs to SyFy, Sam and Jim, etc. Thanks to all the Havenites on Tumblr and Twitter who continue to give me such great support, as well as all the reviewers here and at AO3. Huge shout out to my dear LadyCallie for betaing everything I've written for the last 13 years -- she has been instrumental in shaping and guiding this piece. her encouragement, fine editting and storytelling skills, and support have been invaluable. Also huge thanks to my MamaK, the venerable rutsky, who encouraged me to write this and who has been reading this piece throughout it's development. Finally, HUGE thanks to Kitty Chandler and Adsartha Hammett, whose"Murderboards" blog has been instrumental in my research of this piece. Seriously, if you've never been there, their in depth analyses of the characters, locations, mythology, and episodes of Haven are genius. Also, they get 100% for the phrase "Fucking Haven."
> 
> Continuity: This in in place of "Reunion." For my purposes, none of that really fit in to the story I've been trying to tell. I've already taken some of Arla and Audrey's dialogue from the end of that episode and used it already. I'm going my own way, kids, hope you have fun.
> 
> Fun fact: The working title of this chapter while it was being written "MOAR SEKS," mostly for my own amusement.

Getting eight solid, uninterrupted hours of sleep with regularity was a luxury Audrey could get used to. Prior to the last few weeks, she couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t been awakened by her phone ringing, another case that needed solving, another Troubled person that needed her; a night when she hadn’t caught a few hours on the couch in her office at the station because she was working a case; a night when she hadn’t attempted sleep on her own couch, still in the day’s clothes, a loaded gun in her hand. It’s not paranoia if they’re really after you, as the saying went. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d slept in her own bed, prior to the night she’d had the flashback of being Sarah and collapsed; the night Nathan had stayed with her, tucked her into the bed like a child, had slept beside her and held her hand like they hadn’t spent two months putting a mountain of anger and pain between them.

They’d begun repairing their relationship with baby steps — if one could call sharing a bed with a few stray kisses and a little physical contact baby steps. She was in his bed now, though, and they had definitely graduated from baby steps. She smiled to herself and snuggled deeper underneath the comforter, enjoying the feeling of being cocooned in warmth. She was sore from the previous night’s fight, but the hot shower and aspirin had done wonders, as had a pre-sleep massage from Haven's Chief of Police. She had no idea what time it was, and had no desire to open her eyes and find out. His bed was warm and comfortable, and had the added benefit that he was usually in it when she was, these days.

Eyes still closed, Audrey reached back, patting blindly in search of his hand. Her hand brushed down the skin of his arm, his flesh warm under her palm. She twined her fingers with his and anchored herself, using his weight as leverage to pull herself backwards and curl her body against his. She brought his arm around her waist and wiggled her bottom a little as she settled against his middle. His breath was hot and steady on her neck. She knew that part of their argument the previous day had been in regards to his overwhelming desire to keep her safe. If he was awake, she might’ve admitted to him that she felt safe right here, right now. She sighed, and waited for his breathing to lull her back to sleep.

Nathan had been awake from a while now, had been watching her sleep, listening to her breathe. Breaking into her apartment the previous night, seeing her lying on the floor, clutching her head and going in and out of consciousness, it had taken all of his willpower to not bow to his instincts and scoop her up then and there and take her to the hospital. You don’t just protect me, we protect each other, she’d said. She was right, and he had promised himself that he would honor that. Still, in these quiet moments, he could allow the panic and fear to have their moment, to let it roll over him like a wave. He could watch her, and admit to himself that the day might be coming that he would look across the bed and her side -- a week they’d been sharing a bed and he already thought of it as her side -- and she wouldn’t be there.

He shut his eyes tightly, let the warmth of her body soothe him, banish the fear and the panic. He let Audrey wrap him around her, let her think he was sleeping. When her breath steadied, was slow and even, he opened his eyes. Slowly, he propped himself up on an elbow so he could look at her. He gently brushed some hair from her face, her blonde hair askew, her face a bit flushed from sleep. Her eyes fluttered as she dreamed and every so often a sigh would escape her open lips. He was completely mesmerized by the sight of her sleeping.

On impulse, Nathan buried his face in her hair and listened to the gentle sounds of her breathing, reveling in the feeling of his arms wrapped around her, feeling her chest rise and fall rhythmically with each breath she took. He loved watching her sleep, especially with the little voice in the back of his mind reminding him that their time together might be brief and was precious.

He spent a long time watching her, lost in his thoughts. His touch flower petal-gentle, he ran his fingers up and down the smooth expanse of her back, over her neck and shoulders, down her arms, across her hips and stomach. The bruises from last night's fight were a vivid purple against her pale skin. The memory of her, on the floor in pain, flashed again darkly in his mind.

Mentally, Nathan scowled the memory away. It was morning, and they'd put another night if darkness behind them. He brushed his fingers lightly over her lips and outlined the features of her face before gently dipping down to lightly kiss her shoulder and once again nuzzling his face against her neck.

Audrey’s face squished up in a way he found adorable, but knew that she’d slap him if he commented on it. “You woke me up,” she mumbled into the pillow.

“Couldn’t help it,” he replied after he pressed his lips to her skin. “Couldn’t resist.” He ran a hand down her flank and began rubbing lazy circles on her hip. He heard her make an “mmmm” sound in pleasure and he continued his ministrations, trailing his fingers over her body. Laying his lips against the back of her neck, he murmured, “You sleep okay?”

“Mmmhmmm.” She hooked her left arm back, wrapping it around his neck and scratching her nails lightly against his scalp. They were in no rush, no hurry. It was a new thing for her to luxuriate in another person like this, for her body to be ministered to, for her to know another person’s body so intimately. Although she and Brody had slept together, she didn’t remember ever feeling this intimate with him. In the place between sleep and awake, between cuddling and arousal, she felt like she was floating in hot chocolate, decadent and comforting.

Nathan’s fingers traveled the valleys and peaks, the plains of her body. _He’s making a map of me_ , she thought to herself. She wondered if he ever watched her while she slept. She suspected that he did. If their places were reversed, she would be trying to memorize his body, his features. With less than twenty four hours until the Barn arrived, she wondered if she was becoming a ghost, a fleeting apparition that was going to dissolve into the mist. Memorizing his features would do her no good, as she wouldn’t remember any of it when she returned. His hands cupped her flesh, squeezed her where he knew she liked to be squeezed, stroked her in all the places she liked to be stroked, banishing any thoughts of anything beyond  _him_  and  _them_  and  _there_  and  _now_.

He propped himself up on an elbow and began kissing her cheek, her jaw, tipping her face until he found his quarry, until his lips covered hers. In a single move that had her marveling at his agility and making a mental note to later contemplate his sexual experiences prior to her, he rolled onto her, slipped into her. The pleasure was so keen and deep she let out a long throaty moan, her arms and legs wrapping around him, letting him take and give.

A while later, when it was finished, they lay together, a tangled mass of sweaty limbs and gasping breaths. Audrey wrapped herself around him, draping herself across his body, enveloping him in her warmth. Her hot breath ghosted across his chest, and her tangled hair tickled his nose when she tucked her head under his chin. As was her wont, she threw a thigh across his and smoothed a hand across his abdomen, her fingers idly playing with the hair she found there. The weight of her body was familiar and he tried to memorize the feeling of it, the pressure points, the way her elbow settled slightly uncomfortably on one of his ribs; how the one of his arms that she rested on fell asleep after a time; the way her cheek made his chest sweaty; the way she rubbed her foot absently up and down his leg. His fingers curled in her hair, seemingly of their own accord.

“We should get up,” she murmured sleepily.

He smiled. “What for?”

“We’re going to be late for work,” she replied. He felt her frown against his chest.

“Nope. We have today off.”

She bolted up, her head nearly colliding with his chin on the way up. “We never have a day off,” she said, eyes wild. “The last time I took a day off I got stuck in an OCD time loop and everyone died.” It wasn’t an experience she ever wanted to — ha ha — repeat, and subsequently she’d hardly taken a day off since them.

He was staggered by her. The blankets pooled at her waist in what he imagined was cool air -- his bedroom radiators had never been the best, if he recalled correctly -- but she showed no sign of being cold, made no move to cover herself. Her hair was wild, matted with sweat and tangled from a night of sleep and morning activities. Her face was bare, and she glowed. She has no idea how stunning she is, he thought. He sat up, leaning in to kiss her as he moved. She was still so startled she hardly responded, but he didn’t mind. With an easy smile, he slid out of bed and began rummaging around for sweats and a shirt. “Relax Parker,” he said. “We can take today.”

“But Nathan,” she protested, gobsmacked.

_It was almost perfect. Perfect would have been us, as we are now._

He clung to the belief that they would find their son, that they would find a way for her to stay. He had to cling to that belief. All things being equal, though, and as the last few days had taught him, he needed to at least entertain the idea that sometime in the next few days, she would be gone. He was fairly certain her leaving would break him. He was equally certain that she would kick his ass into next week if she came back and found that he’d wasted his life, pissed it away. In spite of the burning desire to protect her, the obsessive need to keep her safe and with him, the panic and grief he felt at the very thought of her being gone, there was a part of him that recognized that the best way to love her would be to live.

Could he live a life without her, a life big enough and important enough to be worthy of carrying memories for them both? Maybe it was better that he would be the only one to carry all the memories, both happy and sad, if the inevitable happened. The challenge, he realized, would be learning to live with the memories -- and with himself.

They had spent so much time, wasted so much of it -- her pushing him away, him having a single obsessive focus. He knew now that a better use of their time would have been to cherish every moment, to make as many memories as possible. To just love each other. “Audrey,” he said, turning to meet her eyes, a ratty long sleeved shirt held in his hand. “We need today. I need today.”

Audrey wasn’t sure if she had ever heard him utter the words “I need” in regards to anything other than police matters -- I need an ambulance, I need backup. I need today. She pushed back the covers, crawled towards him on the bed. At the edge of the of it she rose to her knees, held her hands out to him. He stepped towards her and she wrapped his arms around her waist, her arms draping over his shoulders. “I love you,” she whispered, stretching to brush her lips over his. “Let’s take today.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said insistently, looking intensely into her eyes.

“I know,” she replied. “But if I do, if I only have one day left, I’d rather spend it with you.”

He smiled a tiny crooked smile, cupped her cheek with his hand briefly, and then left the bedroom. She listened to his soft footfalls on the stairs as he headed downstairs. However many days I have left, I want to spend them with you, she thought. He’d be sixty-one years old when she returned with a different name and different memories, memories that weren’t hers. Would he and Duke be her support system again, or would she find new people? Would she fall in love with any of them? She hadn’t before now, hadn’t been in love with Dave or Vince, as Sarah, or -- as far as she could tell -- with Garland when she was Lucy; she was sure he and James had been Lucy’s support system. But with Duke and Nathan, things were different. This time was different. She didn’t know how, exactly, but she could feel it.

“You hungry?” he hollered from the kitchen.

“Sure,” she shouted back, climbing out of bed and slipping into the pajama pants and old T-shirt he had pulled for her to wear after her bath the other day, before they talked about what had happened in 1955; before she had realized how far she had pushed him, how much she had broken him; before they’d made love for the — well, for the first time this century -- before the whole town had fallen into a coma and she’d had to face the reality that she’d lost another friend to violence and the Troubles.

“Pancakes?”

Audrey laughed. “Sure.” She had seen him eat other foods for various meals, she had even seen him eat the occasional egg sandwich or bagel. However, she was fairly certain pancakes would have been his last meal of choice. This could be my last breakfast, she thought as she pulled on the big fluffy socks she’d brought from her apartment. Wrapping herself in the grey flannel shirt, she shook her head to banish the oncoming moroseness. They would find a way to keep her here, or they wouldn’t. Fretting over what might or might not be would only take away from this day Nathan wanted to share with her, free of police work, the Troubles, and her own impending fate.

She padded down the stairs in her warm socks, being careful not to slip as she went on the unfamiliar wooden steps. Running her fingers through her hair in an attempt to get out the worst of the sleep-made tangles, she followed the sound of pots and pans banging, of the refrigerator and cabinet doors being opened and closed, of the occasional curses and the smell of coffee. Standing in the doorway, she watched him make the batter -- from scratch, no less. Eggs, flour, sugar, milk, baking powder, and melted butter all went into the bowl that he began stirring vigorously. A few over ripe bananas sat on the counter and if she was a betting woman, she’d wager those were going into the pancakes as well. She walked into the kitchen and pressed herself against his back, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Smells good,” she said.

He chuckled, and it rumbled through him and in to her. “I haven’t even started cooking them yet. Want bacon?”

She moved to look him in the eye. “Nathan,” she said, her voice deadly serious. “No one in their right mind ever turns down bacon.”

Smiling, he told her to get it out of the fridge, told her where to find the fry pan as he went back to making the pancakes. They cooked in companionable silence, her setting the bacon to fry in a cold pan, then rummaging around his kitchen for coffee mugs. She poured him a cup — black, one sugar — before doctoring hers with milk. She hopped up on the counter beside the stove, far enough away to keep from getting burned by the popping bacon fat. Sipping the hot and fragrant coffee, she watched him cook, searing the image of him, sleep and sex-rumpled, wearing a Haven PD T-shirt and grey sweat pants that had UMAINE written in large block text up one leg, barefoot on a cold kitchen floor he couldn’t feel, making them breakfast while they played hookey. She wouldn’t remember any of this when she came back, if she left, but she wanted the memories regardless. Her own actual memories only went back to when she woke up in the apartment in Boston, and she wanted to go into the Barn full of her own memories — the bad, the brutal, the boring and the brilliant.

He caught her looking at him and their eyes locked. “You ok Parker?” he asked.

She smiled at him widely over the rim of her mug. “I’m perfect.”

His lips quirked in an almost smile, and his eyes were light and amused. She kept watching him after he returned his attention to their breakfast. He was beautiful and calm, content in his cooking, quiet and normal with her on a cold fall morning. His face was covered in a night’s growth of stubble, and her fingers itched to smooth her hand across his cheek, feeling the rough and the soft. She felt, sitting there sipping her coffee, more at peace than she’d known she could feel. He made her feel so much -- she’d been scared of it, hadn't been sure she deserved it. She had a theory she was being punished, that her coming and going and link to the Troubles were some sort of prison sentence. If that was true, it seemed a violation of her punishment to fall in love; to be happy. Sometimes, catching his gaze, watching him watching her, feeling an absent caress, she felt so down in the gut happy she thought she might burst from it. Other times, the intensity of it terrified her.

Still, it was a gift, and she'd be a fool to squander it. This man, all his shadows and light, loved her, regardless of her own dark places, of her seemingly inevitable fate. Regardless of the circumstances, they had made a child, and that was beautiful. Whether he knew it or not, whether anyone knew it, James Cogan was a walking billboard that proved she and Nathan Wuornos had lived and loved.

She set her mug down and hopped off the counter. Keeping her gaze locked with his, she turned off the burners, then turned the oven to warm. At his curious look, she reached around him, nudged him back as she opened the oven door. He watched her, silent and steady, as she set both pans in the warm oven. He watched her still when she approached him, a devilish gleam in her eyes.

She stood on tiptoe, her hands framing his face. Softly, gently, she brushed her lips over his, testing, tasting. She deepened the kiss, one hand at the base of his neck, the other anchoring them together, pressed against the small of his back. Her hand teased up under the hem of the t-shirt and splayed across the skin of his back, warm and solid. She tasted of coffee, smelled of sleep and his shampoo, her hair still damp from the previous night's shower. His fingers came up, tangled in it as he changed the angle. Slowly, slowly.

On a low chuckle, she pulled away from him, tugged at his t-shirt. "Off," she commanded, pulling it up and over his head. He stooped to accommodate her, watching in amused silence as she tossed it carelessly away. He could have sworn she licked her lips as she looked at him, naked but for a pair of sweatpants he'd had since college.

"Pants," she commanded, her fingers dipping behind the waistband, brushing lightly over his skin and making him gasp. "Off." With a tug and a snap, she had the sweatpants pooling at his ankles. With a sly grin, Audrey hopped up to sit on his kitchen table, and he was instantly glad he hadn't gotten around to setting it. She crooked a single finger at him. "C'mere." Her voice was soft and throaty and full of promise.

More than happy to oblige, Nathan stepped out of the sweats and crossed to her. Audrey leaned back on her hands, lounging casually, her eyes glinting. She looked as though she was ready to devour and be devoured. She reached out and grabbed him by that part of him which got to her first. He moaned, and she smiled wickedly, chuckling.

Determined to take some control of the situation, he tugged at her pajama pants, having her naked from the waist down in seconds flat. Two could play at this game. He ran his hands over her shoulders, slid the grey flannel shirt down, took it off her. They stared at each other, stormy seas and a crystal sky, entranced and enraptured. He played with the T-shirt, his fingers inching underneath the hem, skimming the flesh of her belly, teasing, teasing. He watched her eyes go bleary, go blind as he touched her, mapping her skin, one hand trailing north, the other moving south, promising, promising. His fingers ghosted up her sides, and she squirmed and gasped. He squeezed her breasts, kneaded, stroked. With a playful flourish, he pulled the shirt off, tossed it vaguely in the general direction of his own clothes.

In minutes, he had he writhing, gasping, laid back on the table, splayed and open, surrendered to him. She was panting, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and he was rapidly losing his hold on control, on not following through with the primal, animal needs that pumped through his system. He considered their options -- while the table was sturdy, he wasn't sure it would support both their weights. He could drag her to the floor, he supposed. No, that would take too long.

Grabbing her under the knees, he yanked her forward, plunged into her, seemingly all at once. The orgasm ripped through her with such violence that it stole her breath, yet still she moved with him as he took her up again. It was mindless, glorious, all feeling, no thinking, sheer pleasure. As they both flew on shouts and cries and gasps, one thought filled their minds -- _home_.

Later, after they’d sat on the counter -- "I should have that table bronzed," Nathan joked -- and tucked into their sort-of warm pancakes and not crisp enough but still delicious bacon, plowing through the food like the starving; after they’d drunk their coffees and set the dishwasher to run; after they’d showered -- he’d promised to keep his hands to himself. It was one promise he cheerfully broke -- and dressed, feeling loose and energized like giddy teenagers, they walked out of his house hand in hand, basking in each other.

He took her on a tour of his Haven, showed her where he’d gone to elementary school, middle school, the little league fields he and Duke and others had played on. The corner store she'd popped into a hundred times was suddenly the place he'd spent many a school afternoon when he was a teenager, stocking shelves and flirting with the owner's daughter when her father wasn't paying attention. A yarn shop Audrey had never noticed had been Nathan's mother's favorite store; he remembered running his fingers over all the different types of yarn and marveling at the feel after the last round of Troubles.

He took her to the oddly still-open mini golf place, an odd conglomeration of pirates and dinosaurs. “It’s like  _Jurassic Park_  and _Pirates of the Carribean_  got sucked into the Bermuda Triangle and this was the result,” Audrey observed absently, wiggling her butt slightly as she lined up her shot. “How is it even still open in November?”

“Old Man Saylor keeps it open until the first snowfall,” Nathan replied, sipping a cup of instant hot chocolate and watching her analyze the put. She was determined to get a hole in one. Three holes later she did, and her “hole in one” dance made him laugh out loud and kiss her soundly, publically. He still beat her by three strokes.

They went skating at the town’s new indoor rink -- or rather, he skated and she gripped his hands, wobbling like a newborn colt and begging him through shrieking laughter not to let her fall. Eventually, they got her standing with relative stability and he pulled her around the rink, skating backwards smoothly on his ancient hockey skates, gradually increasing his speed until she felt as though she was flying. They skated side by side, holding hands for a while, until he convinced her to try it on her own. She wasn't Dorothy Hamil, but she didn't fall on her face either and considered that a victory. Mothers who sat in the stands waiting through their pre-kindergartners’ skating lessons gossiped about the Chief and his partner, the strange blonde woman with kind eyes and a compassionate nature. Mrs. Patricia Allin, who’d run the concession stand for fifty years, looked up from her battered Mike Noonan paperback and remembered with a smile when she and her Freddy -- God rest his soul -- had been that young and that in love.

He did not take her into his high school, muttering something about avoiding a sixteen year reunion -- "Only in Haven do they celebrate random anniversaries of graduating" -- but drove her around the campus, pointing out the various buildings and remembering how he’d had seven minutes to get clear across campus between his math and biology classes his junior year.

"We’re you in any clubs?" Audrey asked, trying to picture him as a teenager.

"Yeah," he said, audibly gulping, embarrassed. "I was president of the A/V club."

She laughed and awed. "Can I see your yearbook when we get home?"

His belly clenched when she called his house ’home,’ and a warmth spread through him. "Absolutely not. I was a geek."

"The best ones are," she remarked, throwing him a smile.

Taking one hand off the steering wheel, he reached over and undid her seatbelt, yanking her across the bench seat towards him. She secured herself with the ancient middle seat belt and curled up against him, twining her left and with his right while he drove one-handed.

He took her to lunch at a hot dog shack out on Rt 18. There were picnic tables outside, a counter with a few stools, and a roof so low that Nathan would barely stand up straight while they ordered. "The original’s down in York,” he explained as he made his way through the second of three dogs. “Best hot dogs in Maine. Woman named Flo took it over from her mother-in-law. Her daughter-in-law runs this one." They sat across from each other on a weathered picnic table under giant heat lamps, drinking cans of Moxie and sharing a bag of potato chips. She was dubious about his choice of fare, until she bit into one; then she scolded him for waiting so long to bring her there. The Moxie was, at best, an acquired taste; but,  _when in Maine_  and all that.

When they got back into the Bronco, an uneasy silence settled over them. There was a discomfort in the air that Audrey could practically see, like smoke. Her eyes darted towards him, but he made no sign that he noticed he had her attention. She wanted to ask where they were going, but there was something about his body language, the hard set of his jaw, the steeliness in his eyes, that made her stay quiet.

He hadn't planned to take her there. It certainly wasn't part of any day he would want to call perfect. But something was drawing him there, a siren's call. His eyes fixed on the road, Nathan thought that maybe with Audrey with him, he might be able to face it.


	10. that's the least of all my fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which old ghosts resurface, cupcakes are eaten, and Moulin Rouge is watched

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler Warning: Spoilers for all of Haven up through and including the end of S3, although this story does not follow exactly the storyline of S3. I've borrowed some episode dialogue where appropriate. One may also notice references to BSG, Doctor Who, Farscape, the Time Traveler's Wife, Buffy, The West Wing, various Nora Roberts novels, and anything else that's influenced me. The title of this piece comes from a line from John Green's book The Fault In Our Stars. Chapter title is from "Barton Hollow" by The Civil Wars.
> 
> Acknowledgements: Haven belongs to SyFy, Sam and Jim, etc. Thanks to all the Havenites on Tumblr and Twitter who continue to give me such great support, as well as all the reviewers here and at AO3. Huge shout out to my dear LadyCallie for betaing everything I've written for the last 13 years - she has been instrumental in shaping and guiding this piece. her encouragement, fine editting and storytelling skills, and support have been invaluable. Also huge thanks to my MamaK, the venerable rutsky, who encouraged me to write this and who has been reading this piece throughout it's development. Finally, HUGE thanks to Kitty Chandler and Adsartha Hammett, whose"Murderboards" blog has been instrumental in my research of this piece. Seriously, if you've never been there, their in depth analyses of the characters, locations, mythology, and episodes of Haven are genius. Also, they get 100% for the phrase "Fucking Haven."

The gravel of the unpaved driveway crunched under the truck's tires as they cruised to a stop in front of an old two story saltbox house, half colonial, half strange angles and ancient shingles. He put the truck in park with a resounding clunk. The cottage was showing its years, with the paint visibly peeling around the windows and the concrete steps crumbling at the edges, a rusted iron railing that had clearly seen better days flanking the edges of the staircase. The small front yard was covered in yellowed grass. A shrub, equally dead-for-the-winter, sat dormant and overgrown, its bare branches hanging haphazardly, reaching for the sky, the ground, withered arms reaching for a dead lover.

She didn't need him to tell her where they were, now. He sat, eyes fixed, hands still clutching the steering wheel. Audrey reached over, covered one if his hands with hers. She squeezed, but said nothing, hoping to imbue him with some strength, hoping he knew she understood. Nathan took an audible deep breath, but still could not meet her eyes. His only acknowledgment of her was a hastily returned squeeze of her hand before he undid his buckle with a quick and violent snap and slid out of the car. She scrambled to follow him, the heavy truck door banging closed as she hurried across the dead grass. Blithely, she wondered how they still had no snow, halfway through November.

He pulled a key, well worn and smoothed by years of being turned in the same lock, from his pocket. With the same determination she had seen in him as he entered a crime scene, he opened the lock, pulled the door open. He moved aside to hold the door open for her, but she merely held out her hand. She would go in with him; not before or after. They would face it together. The hardness in his eyes softened as he understood her intent.

He wanted to say thank you, but couldn't bring himself to speak. The doorway wasn't wide enough for them to fit through side by side, but he pulled her to him and they managed. With the woman he loved by his side, Nathan stepped in to a repository of memories.

The house smelled musty, as he'd expected it to for as long as it had been shut up. The walls were wood paneled, the carpet threadbare. The furniture was covered in sheets to protect them from gathering dust. It was cool; he'd kept the heat up only inasmuch as was necessary to keep the pipes from freezing. The drafty windows, installed before the phrase 'energy efficient' had been coined, were in sore need of replacing.

This hadn't been his first childhood home. He had no memory of the life he and his mother had had with Max Hansen -- and that was a curious thing. This house, which had been a home when his mother had been alive, and had later been a battleground where every memory was a weapon, was the home of his childhood. He'd happily moved out when it had been time for college, had rented a single room in a boarding house after graduation, until he could afford a proper apartment. Garland Wuornos had lived here alone for sixteen years. The house had sat empty since his death.

"I haven't been able to go through this place," he said haltingly. They were the first words he'd spoken since they'd left the lunch spot. "Can't sell it til it's empty." He stared, unblinking, seeing ghosts of his childhood play in his peripheral vision. Her hand was warm in his, a steady comfort.

She said nothing, merely watched him.  The sorrow and pain on his face made her ache. The Chief had been dead only a handful of months, and Audrey knew Nathan hadn't had sufficient time to grieve -- that first hour on the beach, the memorial service; perhaps sometimes when he was alone at home. Would he take the time to grieve her, when she was gone? Or would he cover evidence of her existence in cloths, keep it a frozen dusty shrine he could neither enjoy nor get rid of?

"I just need to check the locks, the windows, make sure no one's been squatting," he said, already moving away from her. He was acting by halves automatically, instinctively, already lost in memory and chased by ghosts. He hated this house, because of what it had and hadn't been. He loved this house, because it was where he remembered his mother, happy, alive, in love with the Chief. He knew now that whatever memories he had of her were the only memories he had of her, the first seven years of his life inexplicably missing -- perhaps for the better.

Audrey made a move to follow him, but something was drawing her away. Almost of their own accord, her feet began walking towards the back of the house, up the old creaky steps to the second floor. She wandered past a spare bedroom, follow the twisting hallway, strange for such a boxy house. She passed a well appointed, if dated bathroom and what she knew without opening it to be a linen closet. Beyond it were three rooms, three doors, side by side at the end of the odd hallway; a cul de sac of rooms. Master bedroom, tiny office, Nathan's childhood room. She knew without looking which was which.

She'd been in this house before; or rather, Lucy had. Audrey was sure of it. She had knowledge of things she'd never been told, like how the taps on the bathroom sink were reversed. The window in the office was difficult to open, which was a bitch in the summer, and the floor was slanted such that even sitting, it was an effort to keep rolling desk chairs still.

Her vision seemed to blur and she found herself looking out of eyes that were hers, but not. It felt like being in an old movie, forced and stretched to fit on an HD channel. It felt distorted, filtered.

_She was pacing the tiny office, while a young Garland puffed on a cigarette, the smoke wafting out the window._

_"Damned thing," he muttered, giving the window a dirty look._

_Audrey-as-Lucy smiled tiredly. "You know Annemarie would skin you if she caught you. Fight with the window or fight with her._

_Garland grunted._

_"How're they settling in?" she asked, running her fingers absently over the spines of books on a shelf across from the desk._

_He shrugged, "All right, I suppose. She cleans too damn much. I told her she don't owe me --"_

_"Let her be grateful," Lucy chided gently. "You gave her and the boy a place to stay when they needed one."_

_"Hansen," Garland spat. "Fucking bastard." He took a long drag on the cigarette. "She pressed charges."_

_"She's a courageous woman," Lucy remarked, sitting on the edge of the desk, upwind of the smoke._

_"He won't be in long enough. It's his first battery offense." Garland's hands went to fists. "He fucking hit her, Luce. Damned near knocked a few teeth loose."_

_She reached over, squeezed one of his fists. "I know. But not the boy."_

_"No," Garland said, taking the comfort she offered. "Annemarie protected him. Kept him hidden."_

_Audrey felt Lucy's flood of relief. "Small miracles," she murmured. "Is she going to divorce him?"_

_"Hell, Lucy, I don't know." Frustrated, he reached for another cigarette._

_Lucy's voice lowered, was quiet and patient. "You want her to."_

_"Course I want her to." The stream of smoke that spewed from his lips like a volcanic cloud punctuated his words._

_"Have you told her you're in love with her?" Lucy plucked the cigarette from his hand, took a drag herself._

_He scowled. "Didn't you quit those?"_

_"Absolutely.” She flashed him a conspiratorial grin. “It doesn't count if I only take one drag. Now answer the question."_

_"No."_

_Playfully, she shoved the cigarette back into his mouth. "No, you're not answering the question or no you haven't told her?"_

_Garland regarded her with folded arms. "Who do_ you _love, Lucy Goosey?"_

_She smiled, and Audrey could feel it was a defense. "You." The man scoffed. "No, seriously," she said, and it felt like the truth. "I've never had a brother before." She frowned. "I don't think."_

_Garland laughed at that. "What about that kid from Colorado, come looking for his mama?"_

_"James," Lucy said. Audrey could feel her conflicted emotions. Lucky knew who James really was, but hadn't told Garland._

_"Cogan, right," Garland nodded. "Annemarie said she and the boy ran into him in town. Said Nathan took a shine to him."_

_Shock flooded Lucy. Audrey felt it mix with her own. "Yeah," Lucy murmured, lost in thought. "I suppose he would._ "

"Audrey?" Trying unsuccessfully to cast off the ghosts of his past that clung to him like burrs, Nathan climbed the stairs in search of her. He passed the bedroom he knew had been intended for another child, a sibling his parents -- Garland and his mother -- had wanted to give him, but hadn't been able to. It occurred to him now that that child, that mythical second baby he knew his mother had longed for would've been his half sibling. If it had been a brother, he would've inherited the cracks Trouble. If he'd had a sister, she would have been...

"Audrey?" He approached her cautiously. She was standing, staring at the three shut doors at the end if the hall. Gingerly, he reached out and touched her arm, and she jumped.

"Shit." He reached into his pocket, searching for a tissue or other bit of cloth. "Your nose is bleeding."

As though she was coming out of a trance, Audrey shook her head briskly. She pressed her palm to her nose. "Dammit." While Nathan searched his pockets, Audrey walked to the linen closet, pulled out a face cloth. She used it to staunch the blood and turned back to Nathan, who was staring at her with a fair degree of shock.

"How did you know those were in that closet?" he marveled.

She sighed, taking stock. She had a mild headache, but she wasn't dizzy. Wiping her nose and shoving the cloth in her back pocket, she walked to him, took his hand in hers, and pointed at the doors with her other one. "Office - there's a window that doesn't open well, but your dad used to wrestle it open so your mom wouldn't know he'd been smoking in the house."

Nathan couldn't help but smile at a memory they shouldn't have shared. "She always knew."

Audrey pointed to the door on the left. "Your room.  When you and Annemarie first came to live here, you were unpacking, and you accidentally put a hole in the closet with a baseball bat.” As Nathan watched, her eyes went cloudy, unseeing. He gripped her arm. “You were terrified Garland was going to be angry with you. Max would’ve been angry -- he was such a terrible man.” She frowned, her face sad and haunted. “So angry, so full of hate, and rage, and pain. Pain he inflicted on others. But your father, Garland, he didn’t get angry. He told you it was just a wall. Wasn’t much about it that couldn’t be fixed.” Her voice took on a masculine affect, mimicking how the Chief had sounded all those years ago.

He stared at her, gobsmacked. He had absolutely no memory of any of it, but it sounded true. It felt true. Audrey’s eyes cleared, and her nose started to bleed again. He pulled the wash cloth from her pocket to staunch the flow. “How do you know all that?”

“Lucy,” she said softly, feeling suddenly very tired. “Lucy spent some time here. Something drew me up here and I saw her memories.”

Amazed at the memories, sad that he did not have them himself, terrified she was risking further damage to herself, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and steered her away from the doors. “That’s enough for now,” he said gently, pressing his lips to the crown of her head. “Let’s go home.”

“No,” she insisted with a firm shake of her head that intensified her headache. “Please.” At the top of the stairs in his childhood home, she gripped his hands. There was a faint stain of dried blood above her lip, and her eyes were shadowed and hollow. "We've been having such a nice day."  _Such a good last day_ , she thought, but didn't say. "I don't want it to end."

He cupped her pale cheek with his palm. "Alright. But go to the car, close your eyes for a little bit." He kissed her gently, tenderly. "I'll be out in a minute. I promise."

She smiled weakly, and slowly made her way down the stairs, leaving him alone on the second floor to bid farewell to his ghosts.

He drove around town and the surrounding areas aimlessly for half an hour while she napped, her head propped against the window. He hoped the heating was up high enough, that she was warm enough, or not too warm, since he couldn't tell. Lost in his thoughts, he tried to enjoy the quiet, the town as it looked -- peaceful, people going about their business on an idyllic, if brisk afternoon. _There are two Havens._  Audrey's voice from so long ago -- months, though it felt like years -- rang in his head. _The one just beneath the surface, and the one just beneath that._

She hadn't been in Haven very long, then -- this time -- when she'd said that. It had been an apt, succinct summation of their little slice of paradise, of purgatory.

He wanted to analyze what had just happened in the house, the things Audrey had remembered. She knew things he didn't, or couldn't remember. Those memories seemed forbidden, somehow. The hole in the closet wall -- it had always been there. His father -- Garland -- had said it happened when they moved into the house. That hadn't been a complete fabrication, Nathan supposed. Still, why couldn't he remember? Was it simply blocking childhood trauma, or a Haven thing?

_Can't it be both?_  Claire's voice rang in his head; the real Claire, not the harsh voice of the imposter who wore her skin they'd faced the night before.

Goddammit, their lives were strange.

As he drove down Main Street, he saw an available space, parked in it. He didn't want to stay long, lest someone try to grab him for some complaint -- it was his day off, dammit -- but he had an errand to run. Quietly, he undid his seatbelt, so as not to wake her. Still, she stirred. He winced. "Sorry," he whispered, then realized the instinct to whisper was a foolish one.

"Where are we?" She asked sleepily.

"Pit stop," he replied, opening the car door. "Two minutes. Be right back."

He flashed her a grin and left, jogging around the car and into a nearby shop. Blinking away the sleep, Audrey surveyed their surroundings. She saw where he'd parked, where he'd gone, and smiled.

Armed with cupcakes and coffee from Rosemary’s, and a blanket Nathan had dug out of Garland’s attic, they headed down to Edgewater Beach. It was a place in Haven that held bittersweet memories for both of them; where they had seen his father die, where they had found that their relationship could have its own cracks, that they could be driven in two. He had blamed her, initially, for Garland’s death, for not doing her “Audrey Parker thing” and helping him as she helped all the other Troubled people they encountered. From the day they met until that day, Nathan had never wanted her to go away, had never wanted her to leave him alone. But that day, as he’d sat on the beach, curled into himself and around his pain, he’d told her to go away.

She’d done as he asked, however reluctantly, and still she’d taken care of him, calling Vince and Dave to come help collect what was left of Garland.  Later, when he’d been able to see through the dark red haze of his loss, he’d sought her out, apologized, and she’d realized that he could feel her. He’d been afraid then that their relationship would change once she knew the truth; he’d been afraid that she would feel obligated or maybe disgusted, that maybe she would doubt the sincerity of his feelings for her. But she hadn’t. She’d just been Audrey. Accepting, nonjudgmental, his partner, his best friend — Audrey.

Depending on whose perspective he looked at it from, the next major event that had happened on this beach was fifty-four years prior to Garland’s death, or a few months after it. This was the beach he’d taken Sarah to, to have beers and to talk, to get to know the woman who wore Audrey’s face, who had red hair and a saucy smile. He hadn’t intended on sleeping with her, hadn’t had a plan in mind. All he’d known was the beauty of a summer’s day; a cool ocean breeze he couldn’t feel, but he watched it play with her hair as his fingers had itched do; all he’d known was the beauty of her, the warmth of her touch, the light in her smile. He had been going to leave, before things went too far, but his better angels were shouted down and they took each other in a hidden cave up the beach.

There was sun today, but no beer. Instead of a fedora and a sports coat, he wore long johns under his jeans, sturdy insulated boots, and a winter coat over thermal and flannel shirts. He glanced at Audrey as they settled the blanket on the smooth, cold sand. Her color was back and her eyes were bright. The terrifying otherness that had clouded them as he lost her to memory was gone. She was Audrey again, his partner, his best friend, his lover, the mother of his child -- each role more incredible than the last.

He watched as she took a healthy bite of her cupcake. When she turned to meet his eyes, he chuckled.

"What?" she asked, mouth full. "Do I have sprinkles on my face?"

"'Jimmies,'" he corrected. "How long have you been here? It’s New England. Chocolate sprinkles are jimmies; the rainbow colored ones are sprinkles." He reached over, swiped his thumb over the tip of her nose. "Frosting," he showed it to her, then sucked the cocoa- hazelnut butter cream off his thumb. He wrinkled his nose.

"Not a chocolate fan?"

He shook his head, showing her his own cupcake. "Key lime."

Audrey thought for a moment, sipping her coffee, letting the caffeine banish any vestiges of her flashback and the nap that followed. "I've never asked -- with your affliction, do you have a sense of taste?" Several weeks ago, for as well as she'd known him, she'd have felt too embarrassed to ask that kind of question. Maybe it was their newfound intimacy, maybe it was the fearlessness that came with knowing you had only a little time left with the person you loved, but Audrey thought there was hardly anything they couldn't ask each other, couldn't say to each other now.

He nodded, "Sort of.  I get strong flavors -- very spicy, very savory, very tangy, whatever. Everything else is just kinda tasteless."

She thought about his dinner the previous night -- extra barbecue sauce, bacon, sharp cheddar. He drank hoppy beers, strong red wines. She eyed him thoughtfully as she snacked on her cupcake.

Now it was his turn to ask, "What?"

She shrugged, licking some frosting from her fingers. "Just trying to think what else I don't know about you." She ticked off on her fingers the things that came to mind. "Middle name Thaddeus, played hockey and little league as a kid. Takes obsessively good care of cars. Handy at house restoration.” She snapped her fingers gleefully, thinking of something to ask. “Were you a Boy Scout?"

Between bites of his cupcake, Nathan nodded. "Went all the way through Eagle Scout. My big project was fundraising for those benches up on Tuwiuwok Bluff." Where they'd sat dozens of times, talking of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of courtesans and kings.

"Was your dad -- the Chief,” Funny that she kept feeling the need to quantify. “Was he involved in it?"

Nathan shrugged, "Some. He was never a scout leader, but he participated." The sugary confection felt dry and heavy as he forced himself to swallow it. "Up until my mom died."

Audrey reached out, took his hand. "What was it?" They'd never spoken of her, ever. Up until her latest flashback, she hadn't even known his mother's name. The topic had seemed verboten, a radar black spot, something she would never have brought up if he hadn't brought it up first.

He took a long drink of his coffee before answering. "Brain cancer. Multiple tumors. She went blind, got dementia, was in a lot of pain." He stared, unblinking, out at the calm, sparkling blue-grey ocean. "She didn't know who we were, couldn't feed herself, dress herself, bathe. The Chief hired a nurse, Maggie Meserve, to care for her." He cleared his throat. "But she left us long before she died."

"How old were you?" she asked. For all her curiosity, she’d never so much as looked up the woman's death certificate or burial record. It had seemed a betrayal somehow.

Nathan continued to stare out at the ocean, watched as a gull swooped down for a meal. "Twelve."

Five years after the last round of Troubles had ended. "I'm sorry," Audrey said softly, scooting closer to him, wrapping her hands around his bicep. She rested her head on his shoulder. "You don't talk about her a lot." She pressed a kiss to his shoulder, even though she knew he couldn't feel it through the layers of clothing. "Lucy seemed fond of her. Of your dad too -- Garland."

"Max Hansen may be biologically my father, but the Chief was -- he was..." Nathan trailed off, unable to complete the sentence.

Audrey ran her fingers over the edge of his ear, through the hair at his temple. "I know. Lucy considered him a brother."

He chuckled, and there was a tinge of bitterness to it. "Fucking Haven. Next thing you know, I'm going to find out I'm my own grandfather."

"Let's not get carried away," she said with a shiver that had nothing to do with the breeze coming off the November seas.

"I met him, in 1955," he said softly. Glancing sideways, he met her eyes. "My dad. He couldn't have been more than six or seven. He was playing on the grass in front of the station. Asked if I thought he could grow up to be a police offer like me." He drained the last of his coffee. "Sometimes this town can be wonderful, and sometimes..."

"Sometimes it can be really friggin’ weird," she finished. She wondered if Garland had ever remembered the man in a grey blazer and fedora who had told him he could be a police officer.

"All that stuff you remember," he said gruffly after a long period of silence. "I don't remember any of that. If Lucy knew the Chief, knew my mother, I have no memory of her." He sniffed against the cold. "I don't remember Max, I don't remember much about the last round of Troubles."

Audrey sipped her cooling coffee, curled herself more tightly against Nathan. The words burned in her mouth, tasted foul on her tongue. She said them anyway. "Are you afraid you're going to forget me, if I go?"

He looked at her sharply. "I won't forget you." It burned in his eyes, a fire of determination. There was no fear there.

So determined, so stubborn, this man that she loved. She trailed her fingers up and down his neck, as much to soothe herself as him. "Duke was on the beach with me after James died, and he has no memory of it. He doesn't remember why he had Lucy's locket. I spent time at your dad's house, but you don't remember me there. And all the time I spent around the Chief when I got here, it never flashed for me. We don't know who remembers what or why."

Crushing his empty coffee cup in his hands, Nathan turned to face her, his eyes full of fury. "I'm not going to forget you Audrey, that's the end of it." His eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Do you want me to forget?"

"No," she said, hanging her head. Then, so quietly that he almost didn't hear it over the crashing waves, she murmured, "And yes."

The fist around his throat squeezed, and his vision tinged red. His entire body went rigid, as though he was reviving an electrical shock. For a split second, he knew nothing -- no sound, no light, no up, no down, no time. All he knew was the shock of pain her words brought, the keen blade of betrayal, and the knowledge that she was right. He was afraid he would forget. So fucking afraid he couldn't even name the fear.

"Nathan," she said gently, cautiously, the voice you used when you were trying to convince someone not to jump off a roof, a window's ledge, a twenty-story building. "Nathan, look at me. Listen to me." Impatient for him to comply, she scrambled around, kneeling in the cold wet sand in front of him. She gripped his hands, squeezing until he met her eyes. She could see the grief in them. "I've known you for six months, and I've heard more about your mother today than I ever did before. Your father's house, which Duke and I would've helped you clean out if you asked -- we would have made time," she snapped, cutting off the bitter retort she saw forming on his lips. "That house sits buried under drop cloths and dust and it kills you to go in there; I just saw what going in there did to you. When you thought I might be in danger from Duke just because his father -- who he doesn't really like, by the way, I don’t know if you’ve noticed -- said to kill me, you went out and got the Guard tattoo."

She took his face in her hands. "One of the best things about you is how intense your loyalty is. You never need to tell me how much you love me because its advertised in neon lights with everything you do." She smiled sadly. "Your love and your loyalty are fierce, Nathan, but they fucking terrify me, sometimes. Because they come at the expense of yourself. So, if my options are: you forget me, or you spend the next twenty seven years never mentioning my existence to another living soul while it eats you alive from the inside out, or I become something else you hide under tarps and dust and can't bear to face, then yes. Forget me."

A stray tear trailed down her left cheek, glistening in the fading afternoon sun. "Do I want you to forget me? Absolutely not. I want you to live, Nathan. I want you to have an amazing life, and love people, and be able to think of me without pain. I want you to remember all the time we've had, even the really shitty parts, and know what you are to me, how much I love you and what you've meant to me." Her tears were flowing freely now, and she was helpless to stop him. "Please Nathan, don't mourn for me. Not long, anyway." She flashed him a small smile at the joke. "Do your man-grieving, your Jack Daniels and Patsy Cline thing, but then live. Please, Nathan." She ungracefully sniffed back her tears. "If the Barn whisks me away tomorrow--"

"It won't," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

"If it does," she continued, forcing her voice to be firm. "I don't want to go in knowing my doing so saved the town, but destroyed you. I could bear almost anything, but don't make me go in carrying that." Audrey took a deep breath, released it on a watery laugh as she sat back on her heels. She waved a hand vaguely in the air. "Okay, you can talk now."

He stared at her, the fascinating, maddening blonde woman with tear stained cheeks and red rimmed eyes that shone brilliantly blue. She thought his love was fierce? Sometimes it felt as though he was in love with a force of nature. Rising to his knees, Nathan reached, cupping her teary cheek, rubbing the moisture away with the pad if his thumb. "How am I supposed to follow that?" He pulled her to him, buried his face in her hair. She smelled of salt and sea and his shampoo. She was warm in his arms, the weight of her body against his a comfort and an anchor.

“Jesus Christ, Audrey.” He tugged her down with him, arranged them to that they were sitting in the center of the blanket with her across his lap, their arms around each other. He didn’t know what to say to her, after all that. He didn’t know what there was to say. The best he could manage was a whispered, “I promise,” against the crown of her head.

They stayed that way, wrapped in each other, around each other on the blanket until the sun set behind them and it was too chilly to stay out there any longer. Silently, they picked up the blanket and the refuse of their snacks, and walked hand in hand across the dark sand back to the Bronco. He laughed at her as she furiously banged her heels against the side of the truck so that she wouldn’t track sand in.

They stopped by the market for dinner at Audrey’s request. She said he’d taken care of breakfast and lunch, and cupcakes, so dinner was on her. Nathan watched her with amusement as she flitted around the shop, selecting her ingredients. Other than that morning’s bacon, and the pancake date that never was, he’d never known her to be much of a cook and was skeptical, but kept it to himself. Still, he was impressed when she threw together a grapefruit and arugula salad with peppered goat cheese, a roasted chicken with bacon and brandy, garlic mashed potatoes -- from scratch no less -- and lemon dill roasted asparagus. She chose a bottle of white wine for herself and a bottle of red for him -- “Pairings be damned,” she said. “If you like to drink it, it goes with the damned food.” -- and surprised him with a dessert made only from lemon sorbet and sparkling wine.

“Who knew you could cook,” he said, resisting the urge to loosen his belt before helping her load his dishwasher.

More than a little tipsy on too much wine, as she’d intended to be, Audrey grinned. “Well, one of me could, and that works for me.” The humor in her eyes was enough to chase away the bizarreness of that particular aspect of their lives.

He let her pick the movie, and instantly regretted it.

“ _Moulin Rouge_!”

“It’s not my DVD collection, Wuornos, and the magical DVD fairies didn’t put it there.”

She had a point.

When the movie was finished, and they’d checked to make sure the house was locked tight for the night, they walked up the beautiful staircase of his restored home, hand in hand. They did not speak of the nearing hour, how at midnight, it would technically be time for the Hunter to arrive. They did not mention how they had spent what might be her final day not working -- save for the picture of Arla, the real Arla, that Nathan had gotten Stan to circulate -- nor had they spent it researching ways for her to stay. Instead of raging against the dying of that particular light, they had chosen to spend the day with each other. And that was enough.

Wordlessly, they climbed into bed, made love by the moonlight. The words one last time popped into both their heads, unbidden. As they both neared the razor’s edge, Audrey gripped his hands, captured his gaze with her own.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

When it was finished, they lay wrapped in each other, silent. There were no more words left to say.

Audrey fell asleep curled around him, her breath warm on his chest. Nathan tightened his hold on her, as though he could keep her with him by the sheer force of his will. He was determined to stay awake, determined to watch over her through the night. But a day full of food, and sex, fun and emotions, took their roll and overrode his will. As the clock struck midnight, and despite his best efforts, he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

When he woke in the morning, the bright sun streaming through his windows, Nathan sat up like an arrow loosed from a bow.

Audrey was gone.


	11. the war outside our door keeps raging on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which coffee is drunk, Nathan runs around the house naked, and a no smoking rule is enforced

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler Warning: Spoilers for all of Haven up through and including the end of S3, although this story does not follow exactly the storyline of S3. I've borrowed some episode dialogue where appropriate. One may also notice references to BSG, Doctor Who, Farscape, the Time Traveler's Wife, Buffy, The West Wing, various Nora Roberts novels, and anything else that's influenced me. The title of this piece comes from a line from John Green's book The Fault In Our Stars. Chapter title is from "Safe and Sound" by The Civil Wars and Taylor Swift.
> 
> Acknowledgements: Haven belongs to SyFy, Sam and Jim, etc. Thanks to all the Havenites on Tumblr and Twitter who continue to give me such great support, as well as all the reviewers here and at AO3. Huge shout out to my dear LadyCallie for betaing everything I've written for the last 13 years - she has been instrumental in shaping and guiding this piece. her encouragement, fine editting and storytelling skills, and support have been invaluable. Also huge thanks to my MamaK, the venerable rutsky, who encouraged me to write this and who has been reading this piece throughout it's development. Finally, HUGE thanks to Kitty Chandler and Adsartha Hammett, whose"Murderboards" blog has been instrumental in my research of this piece. Seriously, if you've never been there, their in depth analyses of the characters, locations, mythology, and episodes of Haven are genius. Also, they get 100% credit for the phrase "Fucking Haven."

_First Day of the Hunter Meteor Storm — 6 am_

The house was dark and still. The radiators hissed quietly, their musky smell of warmth suffusing the room. Nathan’s breathing was low and steady as he slept on his stomach, limbs akimbo, one arm thrown haphazardly across Audrey’s ribs. Maybe it was that which woke her. His arm felt heavy and awkward against her bones. She shifted gingerly, her eyes still closed, moving his arm down to her waist, where she thought it might be more comfortable. He snorted in his sleep, nuzzled closer to her shoulder, but did not wake. 

She turned her head slightly to look at him as he slept. He looked peaceful, which was a rarity, and a pleasure to see. When they had first met, he’d been a detective, reserved and amenable with a gentle manner. He’d had a seriousness of purpose, but had been content to let his father lead. Garland Wuornos’s death had changed all that, had added a weight to Nathan; had changed him, as one imagined watching one’s father die might, as inheriting a birthright might. With Garland’s death Nathan had inherited the duty of protecting Haven, keeping it together as Garland had been doing for years, if in a different way. The power struggle, the Rev, the responsibility, it had changed Nathan, made him more intense, infinitely less relaxed. She had noticed, and had been glad to find that in sleep at least he seemed calm and without worry. Every day, all day, his face seemed to be in hard set lines, showing the tension and weight that the Troubles put on him. She was glad that he could find some peace in sleep. She wondered if he would still be so peaceful after she disappeared.

With a sigh, Audrey tried to settle back to sleep. She was still here, so that was something. The meteor storm had begun while they slept, but here she remained, warm and cozy beside the man she loved. All along they had been saying she would disappear, but they didn't really know what would happen. Clearly she didn't just up and vanish the minute the storm started, or fade away during the night. Lucy hadn’t just vanished, Audrey thought. She had tried to run, only to be forced into the Barn. She had been forced in by James’s death. Audrey couldn't prove it, but she was nearly certain of it. A member of the Guard had killed her son to lure her back to Haven, to force her to bring him into the Barn to save his life, and make the Troubles go away for twenty-seven years. The question was who.

With that question in her mind, she felt wide awake, eight-hours-of-sleep awake, which was odd, as she knew it was not yet dawn. They had had a full day, a wonderful day, but tiring all the same. The sheer amount and intensity of sex alone should have had her out, stone cold. Nevertheless, she was wide awake, and she mentally groaned as she realized she wouldn't be getting back to sleep. Fleetingly, she considered waking Nathan and enticing him into helping her get back to sleep -- he wouldn't need much convincing.

Her eyes popped open and began adjusting to the dark room as she stared at the ceiling. His arm around her waist still felt uncomfortable, unfortunately, so at a glacial pace she rolled away from him until, in sleep, he retracted him arm. It was then, lying on her side, that she noticed the hall light was on, a thin shaft of light bleeding under the shut bedroom door. Audrey frowned, distinctly remembering shutting it off before they’d settled in for the night. Maybe he got up during the night, she thought, and turned it on on the way to the bathroom.

That made no sense, she realized, in that the bathroom door was only a few feet from his bedroom door, and the light for the hallway beyond it. To turn it on, he'd have had to go past the bathroom. It was his house, and even with his affliction, he knew his way around well, and probably didn't need the light to get from his bedroom to the bathroom.

Audrey saw a shadow move past the door, heard a nearly imperceptible creak of the floor. Her breath caught and her heart began to pound. On the bedside table, her phone silently lit up. She had a new text message. She reached out, picked up the phone.

**GET DRESSED. COME DOWNSTAIRS**. 

It was Claire’s number. The shadow on the other side of the door was still. Audrey’s eyes darted in Nathan’s direction.

Another text:  **WAKE HIM UP AND HE DIES. YOU HAVE TWO MINUTES.**

**OK,**  she texted back.

_Stay asleep,_  she silently begged Nathan as she slipped out of bed. _Be angry at me later but please stay asleep_. She repeated that mantra in her head as she moved swiftly around the room, quickly pulling on black jeans and a dark grey thermal shirt. She left her badge and her gun where they were, knowing Arla wouldn’t allow her to take them anyway. Leaving her phone on the bedside table with the hope that Nathan would see it when he woke up to find her gone and not panic, Audrey snatched up her boots and a pair of socks. She allowed herself a final, fleeting glance in Nathan’s direction before slipping from the room.  _I will see him again_ , she said to herself. She  _had_  to believe it.

She stepped into the kitchen and saw a thin blonde woman dressed all in black, wearing heavy dark eyeliner, sitting at Nathan’s table, staring at her -- watching. Beyond looking like Frankenstein’s monster, she looked like the woman Audrey had seen in James’s wedding photo in Colorado, but harder, scared — on top of the crude stitching lines that crossed her face. Audrey realized that because she was immune to the Troubles, she couldn’t see Arla as everyone else would — they would see a beautiful young woman with smooth skin. To Audrey, she looked like a patchwork person; mottled, decomposing skin, dark stitching lines where the pieces of other women had been sewn into the face Arla wanted Audrey’s son to see.

“Ten seconds to spare,” Arla said with disinterest. “You always were punctual.”

“I didn’t know you had a key,” Audrey replied dryly, crossing to take a chair and put on her socks and shoes.

Arla shrugged. “Tommy had a great lock pick set, and one of Claire’s clients installed the alarm system. Like I said, the good doctor kept excellent notes, which made hacking the guy’s computer a breeze.” She all but buffed her nails on her shirt. “After that, it was pretty easy finding Nathan’s disarm code.”

“Am I supposed to be impressed?”

Arla’s eyes darkened. “Frankly, I don’t give a shit what you are.” She leveled a glare on Audrey, producing a gun from under the table. “The Hunter’s here, Mommy Dearest, and it’s come for you. Now tell me: where is my husband?”

Her boots on, Audrey steadily folded her hands on the table. “Didn’t you tell me the other night that he was in the Barn?”

“Don’t be cute,” her daughter-in-law sneered. “You know where that fucking Barn in.”

“Actually I don’t,” Audrey said, calmly rising from the table and walking to the fridge to remove yesterday’s leftover coffee. She might have been held at gunpoint by her son’s psychotic, murderous wife on the day she was supposed to disappear inside a supernatural barn and make the Troubles go away, but it was before dawn and she wasn’t going to face whatever this day was going to be without some coffee. She moved quietly around the kitchen so as not to wake Nathan upstairs. She had no doubt Arla would make good on her promise to shoot him.

“Yes, you do!” Arla kept her voice low, but intense. “Lucy told James and I that she…that you could make the Barn appear whenever you wanted it. That it had to obey you. So,” she cocked the gun. “Make it appear.”

Audrey sipped the cold, black coffee. “Arla, I can’t just go bippity boppity boo and make the Barn appear in Nathan’s backyard.”

“Don’t lie to me!”

“I’m not,” Audrey replied. “Arla, you said James knows how to end the Troubles, and that Lucy put him in the Barn. I want to see my son, I want to end the Troubles — both of which involve summoning the Barn. If I could make it appear out of thin air, don’t you think I would have done that by now?”

Arla shook her head, and in her eyes Audrey could see that she had genuinely never considered that everything wouldn’t go exactly as she had planned. “I want my husband!” Arla said petulantly, shaking the gun in Audrey’s direction.

Audrey was surprised to find that she actually felt pity for her. “I know you do.”

Arla’s eyes, wild and insane, shone with tears. “Please, just take me to James. You won’t ever have to worry about me again.”

“What makes you think I’m going to let you anywhere near my son?” Audrey folded her hands, leaned towards Arla and her gun.

“Because if you don’t, everyone you love will die. Everything I’ve been doing up until now has just been the opening act.” Arla’s eyes grew colder, something Audrey hadn’t thought possible.

Audrey considered this, considered if Arla was crazy enough to kill indiscriminately, without the goal of getting close to Audrey or finding the right parts. Arla was a killer of necessity; how much more would it take for her to graduate to mass killing, just for kicks? Audrey wasn’t sure if she wanted to find out. She certainly didn’t want to be responsible for any more deaths. She sighed.

“All right. I’ll take you to him.”

Arla smiled as though she’d just won top prize at the fair.

Audrey had been thinking about this for awhile, where the Barn would be when it came for her. “We need to go to Kick ‘Em Jenny Neck,” she said. It was as good a place as any to start, and it would get Arla away from Nathan.

Arla frowned, “Where?”

“It’s an island,” Audrey explained. “About ten miles north of here. A while back, Agent Howard…” She frowned. “Tall, bald, black guy, I thought he was my boss. Ringing any bells?”

“Manning,” Arla said. “He was Lucy’s editor. When I got to Haven, James told me Manning had come to town, demanding Lucy head back to the newspaper she worked for in Portland. They had a fight, Lucy quit and went to work for the _Herald_.”

“Wait,” Audrey said, setting her empty glass down on the counter. “Lucy worked for the _Herald_?” She had always known Vince and Dave were hiding things from her. She wondered if she would ever know how much.

Arla chuckled darkly. “Sometimes, I still don’t quite believe this BS about you not remembering anything.”

“If I could remember, my life would be easier,” Audrey muttered. “Anyway, Howard left me coordinates that led to Kick ‘Em Jenny Neck. I think he was trying to tell me where the Barn would be.”

“That could be anything,” Arla sneered.

“No, it was the Barn. I didn’t go, but…a friend of mine did, and when she came back, she was different -- her memory had been erased. Nathan and I went to check it out, there was nothing there, but there was a big…everything was dead.”

Arla blinked, her eyes alight with hope. “That’s it! When Lucy…when she and James disappeared, everything where the Barn had been was dead.” She gestured with the gun. “Let’s go.”

Audrey sighed, and her eyes inadvertently lifted to the ceiling, to where Nathan slept upstairs.

Arla laughed bitterly, “Hush, Mommy Dearest. Don’t even think about it. One peep out of you, and he won’t be around to find another patch of dead grass.”

Rolling her eyes, Audrey walked out of the kitchen, feeling the gun press against her back. “You know, you’re going to have to find another song to sing. That one’s getting old.”

“With you?” Arla sneered. “Whatever your name is, you’re always the same. You do whatever it takes to protect the people you care about, even if it means hurting other people.”

“Arla,” Audrey said softly, in an almost motherly tone as she grabbed her coat off the hook by the door. “You’re sick.” She held up a hand for peace. “I don’t mean your Trouble -- it’s horrible and awful. I mean killing all those women. Do you really think James is going to thank you for killing dozens of people just so that you could be with him again?”

Arla shoved her out the door, but seemed to have the presence of mind not to slam it behind them. She urged Audrey in the direction of Claire’s car. “James loves me. You don’t know anything about it. You’re just a lying, manipulative bitch. You as good as killed my husband yourself, and then you left me alone out here to suffer.” She shoved Audrey into the driver’s seat. “You’re driving. It’s harder for you to get away that way.”

Audrey sighed as Arla hurried around to the passenger side. There went that plan. “Alright.” Gingerly, she turned the key in the ignition, thankful when the car quietly purred to life. She slowly backed out of Nathan’s driveway as Arla held her at gunpoint.

“Where are we going?” Arla asked as Audrey began to drive towards town.

Audrey cast her a sidelong glance. “We’re going to an island. We’re gonna need a boat.”

_First Day of the Hunter Meteor Storm - 7 am_

Audrey was gone.

Nathan flung himself out of bed, barreling out of the room shouting Audrey’s name. He checked the bathroom, the kitchen and living room, the basement. He climbed the basement steps, naked and barefoot, feeling nothing but terror.

She was gone. Why had he fallen asleep? How could he have been so fucking stupid? They didn't know how she ended up in the Barn. They didn’t know anything, and he'd just fallen asleep like it was a normal night. He should've stayed awake. He'd so needed to believe she would stay, as though his own faith was enough to keep her in Haven, to prevent her from disappearing for twenty seven years without having aged, with a new name and new memories. To prevent her from forgetting him.

When she had come to Haven, in what seemed like lifetimes before, he had found her attractive, had felt that gut punch, that tug in the belly. He had dismissed it as a chemical reaction. She was FBI, there on a case. Then she took leave from the FBI, had begun working as his partner. He'd been surprised how easily he trusted her, how readily he'd been willing to go headlong into the fray with her at his side, at his back. He hadn't expected for her to become his best friend that day he'd pulled her out of the car teetering on the cliff, but the Universe had other plans; or his father had.

In his darkest moments, when he was alone in the quiet and had a few shots in him to ease the journey, he contemplated his an Audrey’s first meeting. A crack had sent her careening over the guardrail. The Chief had proved with Max Hansen that he could control the cracks, at least to some extent. He had been in touch with Howard, for who knew how long. Even under the guise has her superior in the FBI, Howard would have contacted local PD to inform them he was sending an agent. Nathan couldn't deny the possibility that his father had manipulated events to put Audrey in that situation, knowing his son would be right along and come across her.

_He was trying to make you stronger,_  Audrey had told him once, not long after Garland died, as they'd been sitting in a tucked away corner on the Gull having an Irish wake.  _He told me, a few times, that he wanted you to learn from me, to become stronger so you could do what had to be done after he..._

_Dammit, old man._  Nathan cursed his father in his head.  _Did you and Howard pick out together who she would be this time? Did you make her for me?_

_Well hell son, I knew you could be an arrogant son of a bitch._ Garland’s voice sounded in Nathan’s head clearly, as though the man was sitting at the kitchen table. _But "make her" for you? No, I did not go through a lonely hearts column and pick you out a supernatural mail order bride._

Nathan could almost smell cigarette smoke wafting through the kitchen. "Don't smoke in my house,” he ordered, not quite believing he was talking to the ghost in his head. “Rules don't change just cuz you're dead."

Garland laughed.  _Alright. Truth is I don't enjoy these things nearly so much as I did when I was alive. Can't be addicted, so there's no rush in it anymore. But you know what they say about some habits..._

Some habits died hard, and so had Garland.

"My heart bleeds," Nathan said. The derision was almost automatic, the snide remark knee-jerk. He and Garland had never had an easy relationship. Even in death, there was a chasm between them.

_For her it does. Audrey._  His father’s voice got soft, almost wistful, regretful. There was no judgement in it. _Told you not to fall in love with he_ r.

Nathan leaned against the door jamb, folded his arms across his chest. "You knew I already was, so why bother?"

His father sighed. _Cuz I wanted to spare you the pain son, when she went into that fucking Bar_ n. There was a pause, and Nathan imagined him lighting another cigarette _. I had no control over who she was when she came here; I don't know how that all works. But you were already stupid in love with her when I died. Any moron could see that except you two idiots._

Had he been in love with her that long? It was possible. He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t remember exactly when he first realized he was in love with her, but it felt like it had been for quite a while. He looked to where he imagined his father was sitting. "The Colorado Kid is my son."

_Ayuh. Didn't know that til you figured it out. I got a grandson, and twenty-seven years ago, I spent time working with him and never knew who he was. Ain't that a kick in the ass? James was a good kid. Cocky, thought he knew everything -- wonder if that’s genetic. He and Lucy babysat you once. Crocker too early on, though I think that was them doing some digging on Simon._

Nathan groaned as he processed that information. He’d been babysat by his son and his lover. Jesus Christ. "Fucking Haven."

Garland laughed loud and strong, and it made Nathan ache with a longing for the father he wondered if he’d ever truly known, who he’d lost too soon.

_You don't know the half of it_ , the dead man said, still chuckling.

"But you did. Why didn't you tell me?"

_Hell Nathan, I only know half of it myself. You don't remember Lucy, you don't remember Max being around when you were little -- you ever stop and wonder why? The Troubles have rules. I don't know what they all are, but I know one of them is that girl has to find her way, every time. It can't be told, it has to be lived._

"She's gone.” The words forced their way out like they were escaping a prison. They felt hard and dank in his mouth. “I can't find her."

_I noticed. Figured there wasn't much other reason for a man to be standing in his altogether in his kitchen on a Friday morning without a good reason. Waking up and finding the woman you love is gone can do that to a man._

"You knew Mom was never coming back. When I see Audrey again, she won't know who I am."

_You sure can be a blind asshole. Too full of fear and grief and pity to see what's staring you in the face._

"I really don't need the ghost of my dead father whose voice I can only hear in my head giving me shit right now. Audrey. Is  _gon_ e."

_She's not in your house, Nathan, not warming your bed. That don't mean she's gone into the Barn. You think she's been sucked in there, vanished from under your nose. Think she had time to stop and drink a cup of coffee first?_

Nathan's eyes fell on the empty glass that still had some coffee in it. "What the hell?"

_As your pal Crocker would say,_  Yahtzee. Nathan could almost hear the older man slap his thighs and push back in his chair from the table.  _My work here is done. I'll be seein’ you, son. Go find your girl._

The possibilities flashed through Nathan's mind as the smell of cigarette smoke began to fade.

He raced up the stairs, bursting into his bedroom. He saw her cellphone on the nightstand, her badge and service weapon on the dresser. In his earlier blind panic, he had missed them entirely. Flipping through her phone, he found the texts. "Goddammit Audrey. What happened to protecting each other?" He dialed Duke’s number on her phone, set it to speaker and tossed it on the bed before he began dressing with remarkable speed.

"Morning gorgeous," Duke crooned over the phone.

"Some other time, pookie," Nathan snapped as he tugged on a pair of jeans. "Where are you?"

Duke’s tone of voice changed immediately. "Uh,  just about to pull up to the Gull.  I got deliveries coming and my manager called out. Why?"

"Audrey’s gone. Arla’s got her." He could feel the panic rising in his throat -- it felt like acid, tasted metallic. Until recently, he’d never known that fear could have a taste. “The meteor storm started last night,” he said, shrugging into a grey button down. “That means they’ve gotta be looking for that damn Barn. If Audrey goes in...”

“The Troubles are gone,” Duke murmured, bringing his jeep to a stop at the top of the hill that led down to the Gull’s parking lot.

Nathan sank to the bed, socks in hand. “That’s what you’re thinking?! You’re not worried that Arla might’ve just made us lose Audrey forever.” He clutched the socks in his fist so tightly that he mashed them into nearly nothing. His voice shook with rage. “You’re thinking today might be the day the Troubles stop?!”

“Nathan!” Duke shouted sharply. “Don’t make me come over there and slap you.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. He could knew Nathan was close to spiralling out of control -- he’d been watching the man head towards the abyss for weeks now. Duke wasn’t sure if he’d be able to get Nathan back from it if Audrey actually disappeared. “Actually, you know what? Slap yourself. If you don’t feel it, it means the Troubles are still here.” He spoke slowly, deliberately, as though he was explaining something to a slightly dim three year old. “It’ll mean Audrey hasn’t gone in the Barn yet.”

“I’m not slapping myself.” Nathan took a deep breath. “And I don’t need to. I know I still can’t feel anything.” He automatically began putting his socks on, not thinking about the task.

“Well there you go then,” Duke said. “Nathan, think.” He kept his voice calm, but firm. It was a tone he’d learned from Audrey. “They’re looking for the Barn, right? Arla put a gun to Audrey’s head. She had to lead her somewhere. Where would she take her?”

Nathan’s brain felt too full to think, and too empty all at the same time. Dimly, a part of him registered the thought that if Claire were still alive, it would have been a good idea to talk to her about his anxiety issues. But that same part knew that Claire was dead, and was being smothered by the fear, rage, and panic that coursed through Nathan’s system like flood waters. He breathed, trying to force his brain to work. He looked down and saw he had boots on his feet, and had no recollection of putting them on.

“Where? Nathan, think!” Duke ordered.

Nathan got to his feet. He pocketed his own cell phone, snatched up Audrey’s, along with their badges and service weapons, and began moving swiftly out of the bedroom, hoping the movement would jog his thoughts. “What -- what about the place where the other Audrey lost her memory. There was a field with an imprint in it, like a building had been there.”

Emerging from his jeep, Duke nodded. “Yeah, out at Kick ‘Em Jenny Neck.” He remembered it well, as he’d been the one who took the brown haired woman there, had let her go on alone. When he’d found her, she’d been confused, and armed -- a bad combination. He began  jogging towards his dock. “We can only get there by boat. We’ll take mine...” He came up short as he approached the dock, seeing the slip empty. “Dammit!”

“What?” Nathan asked, coming to an abrupt halt in his stride in the middle of his hallway.

“The boat’s gone. They must have taken it.”

“Can the Cape Rouge get us there?”

Duke considered, “Yeah, but once you get close to the island you’re better with something with more maneuverability.” He raced back towards his Jeep. "Meet me at the docks in ten minutes. Somebody owes me a favor."

"I don't even want to know, just make it happen." Nathan was already striding out the door, shrugging into his blue Haven PD jacket as he went.

"Nathan, we’re gonna get her back," Duke promised, kicking his car into gear and careening away from the Gull.

Nathan shoved Audrey's phone into his pocket and hopped into the Bronco. He gunned it out of his driveway and began speeding toward the docks. Not caring that the emergency was merely personal in nature, he flipped on the siren and dash lights that transformed the old blue truck into a police vehicle. As he drove towards the docks, he had only one thought in his head, that he repeated over and over; it was a message, it was a mantra; It was the only way he could stay sane.

_I’m coming to get you._

 


	12. one step closer to the heart of things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which birds are watched, lies are told, and rain starts to fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler Warning: Spoilers for all of Haven up through and including the end of S3, although this story does not follow exactly the storyline of S3. I've borrowed some episode dialogue where appropriate. One may also notice references to BSG, Doctor Who, Farscape, the Time Traveler's Wife, Buffy, The West Wing, various Nora Roberts novels, and anything else that's influenced me. The title of this piece comes from a line from John Green's book The Fault In Our Stars. Chapter title is from "You Will Become" by Glen Hansard.
> 
> Acknowledgements: Haven belongs to SyFy, Sam and Jim, etc. Thanks to all the Havenites on Tumblr and Twitter who continue to give me such great support, as well as all the reviewers here and at AO3. Huge shout out to my dear LadyCallie for betaing everything I've written for the last 13 years - she has been instrumental in shaping and guiding this piece. her encouragement, fine editting and storytelling skills, and support have been invaluable. Also huge thanks to my MamaK, the venerable rutsky, who encouraged me to write this and who has been reading this piece throughout it's development. Finally, HUGE thanks to Kitty Chandler and Adsartha Hammett, whose"Murderboards" blog has been instrumental in my research of this piece. Seriously, if you've never been there, their in depth analyses of the characters, locations, mythology, and episodes of Haven are genius. Also, they get 100% credit for the phrase "Fucking Haven."
> 
> I usually don't ask for this, but this week has been utter shit, with all the stuff going on in my hometown of Boston. If you don't usually leave reviews, would you mind dropping a line this week. it would really cheer me up.

Kick 'Em Jenny Neck was exactly as Audrey remembered it. Even the weather was the same as the last time she'd been there with Nathan, after the other Audrey had been erased by the Barn - gloomy, overcast, cold and dreary. Only this time, she had the distinct pleasure of having a gun rammed into her back by her son's psychotic, serial killer wife.

"How much farther?" Arla demanded.

"Just up ahead," Audrey replied, sincerely hoping the Barn would be there because she needed it to be.

"How do I know you're not lying to me?"

Audrey sighed heavily. "I'm not lying to you, Arla." _Not directly, anyway,_  she thought. She only hoped the Barn would be there because she wanted it to be. Arla seemed to be getting more and more unstable by the minute. If the Barn wasn't where Audrey needed it to be, she had no recourse, no backup, if Arla lashed out.

Deciding that keeping Arla focused on her goal was a way to keep her from unravelling, Audrey muttered, "I don't know what kind of relationship you had with my son."

"We're married," Arla said, sounding annoyed that she was being made to explain it _again_. "We're in love."

Audrey scoffed. "Will he still love you when he finds out you're a serial killer?" She feared the answer would be yes, and her heart wept for her son and the pain he'd endure once he learned of Arla's betrayal.

Before Arla could respond, they stepped into a clearing and saw Agent Howard, replete in camping gear - a far cry from his standard FBI suit - staring through binoculars at the sky. "Shhh," he admonished them. Slowly, he extended one arm and beckoned them forward. Arla seemed genuinely surprised by the man's presence and Audrey could see in the other woman's face that she recognized him.

"White breasted nuthatch," he murmured as they approached. "Likes to climb, not fly." He lowered his binoculars. "Odd bird."

_Aren't we all,_  Audrey thought.

Howard turned and looked at her, offered her a smile that, if she hadn't known better, would have made her think he was happy to see her. "Hello, Audrey," he said with all the warmth of an old friend.

She regarded him cautiously. "Agent Howard, or whoever the hell you are."  _Whatever the hell you ar_ e, she added silently.

Unphased by her remark, his smile widened, the jovial uncle inviting a favored niece in for dinner. "You're looking for the Barn, right?" He gestured with his shoulder. "Come on, I'll take you."

_Do you like candy, little girl? Why Grandmother, what big teeth you have._  Stranger Danger and the sad tale of Little Red jumbled in Audrey's head.  _Mother said straight ahead, don't delay or be misled._  A childhood rhyme - but from whose childhood?  _Snow White trusted the Huntsman and nearly lost her life because of it. Proceed with caution._  Warning bells rang in her head as she gave Howard an untrusting look, but she wasn't quite sure whose voice her fight or flight response had assumed.

Arla, who had been watching their exchange with her own set of reservations, cocked her gun and aimed it at Howard. "No," she said in a steely quiet voice. "You'll take us there."

Howard regarded Arla as though he was seeing her for the first time, and he was unimpressed. "You must be Arla." Audrey could barely hide her smirk at the disdain that dripped from his voice. "I just left James Cogan at Haven Joe's Bakery," Howard continued.

While one part of Audrey's brain registered joy at hearing her son was alive, another part wondered how Howard could have just left anyone at a bakery ten miles south.

"He should still be there," Howard said to Arla, now ignoring Audrey's presence. "Go to him."

Audrey could see the emotions war on Arla's terrible face; hope, disbelief, maybe even a little fear.

Howard smiled at the Skinwalker beatifically. "Twenty seven years - you've been waiting a long time to see him."

Audrey turned to him, "You can't-"

"Shut up, bitch," Arla said, training the gun in Audrey once again. "I don't need you anymore. Make one move to follow me and I will shoot you dead." To ensure they stayed where they were, Arla backed out of the clearing, and didn't turn to run until she hit the path.

Audrey watched her leave, wondering if she could employ whatever method Howard used to get from the bakery to the island in a short span of time so that she could reach James before Arla did. She felt Howard touch her arm.

"Come," he said warmly. "Let's chat a bit." He began walking. Audrey followed him, wondering if his version of the word "chat" meant lecture, or if it meant hog tying her and throwing her in the Barn. They approached a small camp site, where an old coffee pot hung over a crackling fire, on either side of which sat two stumps for seating. "Can I offer you some tea?" he asked, as though they were grand duchesses reconvening after a long absence.

"No, thanks," she said dryly.

"Suit yourself," he replied, settling down on a stump.

Audrey cocked a brow and crossed her arms, "Two questions."

He smirked up at her, "Only two?"

"Oh no," she scoffed. "I have way more than that. But to start: what's with the bird watching get-up, and how could you send that psycho straight to where my son is? Don't you know what she's done?"

"That was three questions, and yes, I do," he said smoothly, pouring himself a cup of tea. "I told her he was at Haven Joe's bakery. Who's to say that's actually where he is?"

Audrey sat on the log opposite him, surprised she was surprised. "You lied?"

He looked mildly disappointed. "Haven't you spent the better part of six odd months cursing me for lying to you?"

"Oh we're going to talk about that, believe me." She pointed her finger at him in what she thought to be a very Duke-esque gesture. "But first, I want to see my son."

Howard sipped his tea and nodded towards a hill off to her left. "He's in the Barn, waiting for you." He smiled in a way Audrey did not find comforting. "Go in and say hello."

"How the hell did that get here?" she asked with alarm, even though her entire intention had been to find it. Looking at the Barn, seeing it for the first time, felt not unlike looking down the barrel of Arla's gun the other night when Audrey had been certain the woman was going to shoot her. It was like looking at the end of her life, at her signed death warrant. At her tombstone.

"The Barn comes whenever you're looking for it," Howard answered. "It comes when you're ready."

"But I'm not ready!" she exclaimed.

"Ah." He set down his cup. "Then it seems we have a problem. For the Troubles to end, you have to want to go in; you have to want to go away. That's what allows the Troubles to end."

"Yeah, not the first time I've heard that." She leaned forward, balancing her elbows on her thighs. "Okay, forget about me for a second; just tell me this: is James alright? Did the Barn...Arla told me that Lucy brought him in there to heal him, resurrect him."

He smiled. "That's exactly what Lucy did. Rather ingenious on her part, as now he's perfectly fine. But then again, I suppose that's why whoever killed him did it in the first place." Howard leveled his gaze on her. "Lucy didn't want to go into the Barn either, and look at what happened to her."

Nathan's words rang in her ears. _I am gonna die before I let you go._  She mentally shook her head, banishing his horrible prophecy. "Do you know who killed my son?"

Howard shook his head, "No. It was not for me to see."

Audrey sighed, wondering what did qualify as something he was allowed to see. She filed it away for later. "It was a member of the Guard, I know that much. Why didn't James come out with me?"

"That's not how it works." Howard shrugged, looking rather bored with the entire conversation.

She rolled her eyes, more than a little exasperated. "How  _does_  it work? Who the hell are you?"

"Think of me," he said, pausing for another sip of tea. "As your ride. I drop you off. And then, when the time is right, I pick you up."

"In a barn," she said, incredulous.

"Oh," he said with a scolding tone in his voice. "It's quite a bit more than a barn."

"Yeah," she scoffed. "It stops the Troubles, it wipes my memory. It slices, it dices, it makes julienne fries." She sprang to her feet. "It kills me!"

Howard frowned over the rim of his cup. "That's a little melodramatic, don't you think?"

"No!" She replied. "I go into that Barn and in twenty seven years, a different woman with different memories,"  _and different loves_ , she thought. "Comes out. Audrey dies."

He nodded, "Well, when you put it that way, yes. Today, Audrey dies."

Though he was only repeating what she'd said, his words hit her like a knife to the gut. Tears filled her eyes. "Please, not yet," she whispered. "I want to see my son." _I want him to meet his father. Even if I never remember it again, I want to take with me whatever memories of us being a family I can get._

"The Barn responds to your commands - within reason." He gave her a look of warning. "If you want it to give you James, it'll give you James. Remember though, that everything has a cost."

She was fairly confident he wasn't talking about twenty bucks or sacrificing a chicken. So much blood, so many lives ruined. "Why the Hunter? It's not enough time. I haven't figured out how to stop the Troubles yet. I need more time."

"I'm sorry Audrey, truly I am. But your time is up."

"No!" she said desperately. "There has to be a way for me to stay."

"Oh, there are ways. But," he held up a finger, silencing her. "I cannot tell you what they are. There are rules, Audrey, ones we both must follow."

She frowned. Other than the Troubles passing from fathers to sons and mothers to daughters, with few exceptions, they didn't seem to have very many rules at all. "Whose rules?"

He smiled in such a manner it made her shiver involuntarily. "In a way...I suppose they're yours."

"What?"

Howard lifted his head, like an animal catching the scent of prey. "You have until midnight tonight, or such destruction as this town has never known will befall it. But if you don't want to come in to the Barn now, then alright. Take the rest of the day." He said it casually, like he was her boss again, giving her an unexpected day off.

Audrey's face lit up, suffused with hope. Then she did the math. "Sixteen hours to find a way to stay in Haven?

He nodded. "But know this, Audrey. Forces are already in motion. The cycle will come to an end, tonight, one way or the other. Mother Nature abhors a vacuum. She demands balance, harmony."

"And the only way to get that harmony is for me to go into the Barn, or destroy the town?"

"To stop the Troubles by going into the Barn," he corrected, sounding very much like a teacher. "Or the town is destroyed, yes. You know how this town got its name? From the Mi'Kmaq word _Tuwiuwok_."

She nodded, remembering what Nathan had told her when she first came to town. "It means 'Haven for God's Orphans.'"

Howard nodded, "It doesn't say which god, you'll notice, or what got them orphaned in the first place." He leaned forward, elbows on knees, fingers steepled. "The town teeters on a precipice. Only you can pull it out of the abyss."

"You're not making any sense."

The ground rumbled. "I've already said too much. Your friends are coming, your lover." The clouds overhead began to thicken and darken. "The sky is going to fall, Audrey, and while you're out there trying find a way to stay, it'll keep falling, faster and faster, until the town and everyone you love is destroyed." He raised his arms in a 'Them's the breaks' gesture and a breeze began to stir. "That is how this works. Until you go into that Barn, the sky will fall. Figure it out, or risk the lives those you love most."

"Audrey!"

She heard Nathan shout her name and it sounded like a beacon, a light to find her way home. Turning away from Howard, she hollered, "Over here!"

"By the way," Howard murmured from behind her. "I like bird watching. I find it peaceful."

_What's with the bird watching get-up?_

In spite of it all, she snickered as Nathan and Duke came charging through the trees, which were swaying in the strong wind that had suddenly kicked up. The two men raced towards her, the pounding of their boots on the ground echoing throughout the clearing. She barely had time to move towards them before she was enveloped in Nathan's arms, his service weapon still clutched in one hand.

"You're ok," he murmured in her ear, the relief in his voice palpable.

She pressed herself to him, drawing from his warmth in the cold wind, breathing him in. Then she frowned. "Why do you smell like cigarette smoke?"

He pulled back abruptly, staring at her in shock. His mouth twitched as though he was trying to work out a plausible answer.

Duke took the opportunity to step in and hand Audrey her badge and service weapon. She stepped back from Nathan and turned her attention to Duke. "Thanks," she hugged him after she fixed the badge to her belt and shoved the safetied weapon into the back of her pants.

"Nice to see you're still with us," Duke said warmly, returning her hug.

"Nice to still be here," she replied. "Did you see Arla? I thought she would've passed you on the trail."

Duke shook his head, the wind playing with strands of his hair one loose from his ponytail. "No - maybe she cut through the woods. Where'd she go?"

Audrey gestured behind her, "Howard sent her on a wild goose chase. He told her James was in town."

The two men looked at the empty stump Audrey gestured to. "Howard, huh?" Duke said, exchanging glances with Nathan.

"Yeah," Audrey said, turning towards to man in question. "He's right...dammit." Sure enough, though his fire still crackled, seemingly unaffected by the wind, he was no longer sitting at it. "He was just here!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms up in the air.

With a frustrated sigh, she turned back to them, the question already written on her face. "How did you get here?"

Nathan slanted a sheepish glance at his travelling companion. "Duke stole a boat."

"Borrowed," Duke replied with a smirk and a shrug.

She couldn't help but grin at both men.

"Where is James, really?" Nathan asked, running his hand up and down her back. He wondered if some part of him was was trying on convince itself she was truly still there. He felt like he needed an anchor and she was it - always. He wondered if she ever got tired of being the one thing that he felt kept him grounded, kept him sane, helped him feel whole.

Audrey nodded up the hill. "In there."

Nathan and Duke turned, seeing the old Barn for the first time. "Fucking thing," Duke muttered. "We should just blow the goddamn thing up. After we get your kid out of it, of course."

_We should blow up the Barn._  The oddest sense of deja vu came over her. It wasn't Duke's voice speaking. Audrey's vision greyed and began to narrow, and she had the sensation she was falling.

_A warm summer day._

_Sarah wearing loafers and bobby socks._

_The young brothers Teague, arguing as always._

_"Hurry up!" Sarah commanded._

_An explosion._

_Nothing._

"Audrey!" The sharpness of Nathan's voice, the weight of his arms around her brought her back. It was like a veil being lifted. Her head began to pound and she felt dizzy.

"Son of a bitch," she murmured, relaxing against Nathan.

"Now now, there's no need for name calling," Duke quipped half-heartedly, unable to hide the concern on his face.

"What is it?" Nathan asked her softly, brushing his lips across his temple for his own comfort as much as hers. she hadn't gone pale this time, but she'd swayed as though collapsing, and her eyes had gone blank and cold.

"Sarah, Dave and Vince tried to blow up the Barn. It couldn't be destroyed." She pressed a hand to her nose to see if it was bleeding. No blood. That was something, at least. She smiled reassuringly at Nathan and moved out of his embrace. The dizziness had passed, and they had things to do.

"We've gotta move," she told the two men and began striding towards the Barn. "We don't have much time before Arla figures out Howard lied to her." She looked at Nathan, who had fallen into step beside her. "We need to get our son, see what he knows, if Arla's right about he and Lucy finding a way to stop all this for good."

"You can't go in there," Nathan said, grabbing her arm, looking at the Barn the way prey looked at a predator.

"Howard said the Barn has to do what I want. That means it can only leave when I'm ready to go," she told him, squeezing his hand. She looked at both men. "And I'm not ready to leave either of you."

Duke smiled, his face full of confidence, his eyes kind, his trust in her visible. "Then let's go get your kid."

They stood in front of the Barn, letting the power of it wash over them. It felt ancient and forever, and yet there was the feeling that if they looked away from it, it might disappear.

"I'll stay out here," Duke said, not taking his eyes off the structure. "In case Arla comes back."

He felt Audrey's gaze land in him. "You guys don't need me third wheeling when you meet your son for sort-of the first time." Audrey stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. He offered her a small affectionate smile, then exchanged glances with Nathan.

"Thank you, Duke," Nathan said softly.

He nodded wordlessly.

Audrey turned her attention to Nathan. "Ready?"

"What's the big deal?" He smirked at her. "It's just a barn."

She couldn't quite match his bravado, however false it might've been. Taking a deep breath, Audrey pulled open the door and stepped through. Nathan followed her, pulling the heavy thing shut behind them.

Duke sighed and leaned back against the wall, one knee bent and a foot braced against it for support, a gun in his hand. As he stood there, he felt water splash the top of his head. "Dammit." Looking up, he saw it was beginning to rain. He glared at the sky and hunched his shoulders, trying to stay as dry as he could under the Barn's eaves. "Didn't think it was supposed to rain today," he muttered, wrapping his arms around his body for warmth. _Fucking Haven_ , he thought. Even when the weather wasn't being controlled by someone's Trouble - which, in reality, he couldn't be sure this wasn't exactly that - it was unpredictable and a nuisance. He cast a wary glance at the Barn door and hoped the Family Wournos would get their reunion over with quickly.

On the other side of the door, Nathan and Audrey surveyed their surroundings. They exchanged wide-eyed looks, their faces mirror images of shock and surprise.

"Okay," Nathan said slowly, blowing out a long breath. "This is...not what I was expecting."


	13. from where you are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which secrets are revealed, hard truths are spoken, and Coke is drunk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler Warning: Spoilers for all of Haven up through and including the end of S3, although this story does not follow exactly the storyline of S3. I've borrowed some episode dialogue where appropriate. One may also notice references to BSG, Doctor Who, Farscape, the Time Traveler's Wife, Buffy, The West Wing, various Nora Roberts novels, and anything else that's influenced me. The title of this piece comes from a line from John Green's book The Fault In Our Stars. Chapter title is from "From Where You Are" by Lifehouse.
> 
> Acknowledgements: Haven belongs to SyFy, Sam and Jim, etc. Thanks to all the Havenites on Tumblr and Twitter who continue to give me such great support, as well as all the reviewers here and at AO3. Huge shout out to my dear LadyCallie for betaing everything I've written for the last 13 years - she has been instrumental in shaping and guiding this piece. her encouragement, fine editting and storytelling skills, and support have been invaluable. Special thanks to Havenprincess for pinch-hitting on this chapter as beta. The work was thrown to her at the last minute and she accepted the task, for which I am grateful. Also huge thanks to my MamaK, the venerable rutsky, who encouraged me to write this and who has been reading this piece throughout it's development. Finally, HUGE thanks to Kitty Chandler and Adsartha Hammett, whose"Murderboards" blog has been instrumental in my research of this piece. Seriously, if you've never been there, their in depth analyses of the characters, locations, mythology, and episodes of Haven are genius. Also, they get 100% credit for the phrase "Fucking Haven."

"Where the hell are we?" Audrey asked, looking at her surroundings. In all honesty, she'd expected it to look more...Barn-like, or supernatural. But it was neither. After however many cycles of the Troubles, she wondered when she'd stop expecting anything to be what logic dictated it should be.

They were standing in a living room. The furnishings -- a velorish burgundy sectional with brown and gold shaggy carpet, the heavy, gaudy-patterned drapes -- and the size of the television all screamed early 80s. She crossed to a nearby window, threw back the curtains and saw it was a blindingly sunny fall day. The leaves on the trees were vibrant ambers and golds and in the distance, she could see snow-capped mountains. She gasped. "Nathan, I think this is Colorado."

He frowned and began rifling through mail that sat in a basket hanging by the door. " _Time Life_ , Amex, _Reader’s Digest_ , Publisher’s Clearinghouse. Mr. And Mrs. James Cogan," he read aloud.

Audrey hurried over and looked at the mail. "Oh my god, this is their house."

"It knows you want James." Nathan set down the mail and took her hand. "This must be where it's keeping him, somewhere familiar."

Audrey felt truly gobsmacked. They were about to meet their son, and he was going to meet a father he’d never known and a second woman who wore his mother’s face. Taking courage from Nathan’s presence, the feel of her hand in his, she took a deep breath and raised her voice. "J--" she faltered, his name stuck in her throat. Feeling suddenly desperate and afraid, she looked to Nathan.

"Try again," he said softly, brushing his lips over the crown of her hair.

She nodded. "James?" She called. "James! Are you here?"

There came no response. She gripped Nathan’s hand, and he wisely kept his mouth shut about the bizarre dichotomy of her making his hand go numb.

"James?" Her heart pounded in her chest, her blood pumping so loudly that it roared in her ears. She'd met him before, but she hadn't. Would he be tired of the mystical, magical mother who didn't age? Would he be angry with her for her hand -- however indirect -- in his death? Would he know her at all?

"Maybe he's not here," Nathan murmured, glancing around.

"No," Audrey said, stepping further into the living room. "He's here." She could feel it. She was connected to this place, to the Barn, knew it like she invented it, as it was the vehicle by which she vanished and had her memories erased. She had expected to feel a sense of foreboding, danger, or to feel threatened. Instead, she felt peaceful and content. And that was terrifying.

_It's more than just a Barn._

She glanced at Nathan and saw him running his fingers over the fabric on the couch, then pick up a knitted afghan and rub it against his cheek.

Audrey gasped. "Oh my God, Nathan..."

"I can feel," he said, his eyes shining, his face beaming incredulity and joy.

She moved to him and took his hand. Turning it over in her own, she examined it as though somehow she might see his trouble evaporating like steam off a cup of tea.

"The Troubles don't work in here," he murmured.

She sighed. "Arla could never survive in here, even if I wanted her to. He would see her as I see her."

Nathan frowned and set the blanket back down. "What do you mean?"

"Arla's wearing the body she made from her victims. She's wearing the body she wanted James to see her in" Audrey explained. "When I saw her, I could see the stitching lines and how she had put herself together. It’s just a theory, but I bet if you'd seen her at your house this morning she would have looked normal."

Nathan glanced around, "You think your trouble immunity comes from the Barn?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. Regardless Arla wants to be in here with James to live with him forever. She won't be able to hide what she's done."

Now it was Nathan's turn to sigh. "It's going to kill him because he loved her enough to marry her. He might think he just got here, or he might've spent twenty seven years waiting to see her again." His voice went soft, reflective. "She won't be the woman he's been waiting for."

Audrey's heart broke a little, knowing he was projecting his own fears. She squeezed his hand. "Come on, let's find him." She gave him a teary smile. "Let's go find our son."

* * *

Duke wished he knew what was going on in there. Audrey and Nathan had been in the damn Barn for over an hour. The misting rain had turned into a steady drizzle, which made waiting for them a chilly misery. He didn’t have a coat, since he hadn’t expected to be outside for any length of time. Now though. he was wishing he’d thought to keep a coat in his truck. Not that it would do him any good now, anyways.

“Get a hold of yourself, Crocker,” he muttered to himself, hunching his shoulders against the cold and the wet.

The ground beneath his feet rumbled, interrupting his inconsequential brooding. He was supported by the Barn, which felt like it hadn't moved at all. Still it was disconcerting and upsetting.

"Seriously," he said, mostly to himself. "Earthquakes now?" He was getting really fucking tired of living in a disaster movie. Little kids with mind control, succubi, people who could project their experiences on to others, people who could cause time travel, selkies, wendigos, golems, clones, parasites, and skinwalkers -- it was a wonder that the town had any people left in it at all. It was even  _more_  of a wonder, he considered, that the people who fought the Troubles hadn't gone completely batshit, ending up with some kind of PTSD.

_Maybe we do_ , he thought. How could they not? Hell, his and Nathan's Troubles alone could fuck a person up pretty well.

As much as he'd exploited -- and triggered -- Nathan's affliction over the years Duke couldn't imagine what it was like to go through life not feeling anything. While it was a mystery how Nathan managed to walk or run without falling down -- most of the time. He’d always been a bit of a klutz -- talking without sounding slurred, trying not to bite his tongue when he ate, and found his gun in its holster time and again, it must have been horrible, feeling like a ghost in your own body. Not feeling physical pain sounded appealing, but he was still prone to life threatening injuries and infections. He wasn't invincible, but it must have been hard not to think that.

Duke had called him the Tin Man over the years, but he knew the analogy was wrong. Nathan's problem wasn't that he didn't have a heart, but rather that it was the only part of him that felt anything so he hid it behind the badge, the walls he put and the grudges he kept. Admittedly, Duke had done plenty to incur some of the ire -- some of it deserved, some of it not. Ever since Nathan's death and resurrection, since travelling back to 1955 and Sarah, they had begun repairing their relationship. It was far from fixed, but there was a level of trust there that had been missing since they were boys. Duke appreciated the irony that it was partially their love for the same woman that united them now.

Audrey. He'd killed for her because she'd asked him to. He understood the finer points and benefits of being morally grey so "because its the right thing to do" wasn't enough of a reason to do much of anything unless it served his own needs and ends, or benefited someone he cared about. But Audrey had asked and ultimately, whatever hatred he bore towards his father, whatever fear he had of his legacy, and whatever common sense had been screaming that  _murder was wrong_ , he knew it hadn't been a request that had come lightly.

His trouble was a bitch, that was for-fucking-sure. What sort of god had his ancestors angered that their line was cursed with this particular Trouble? A Trouble that ended other Troubles through murder. A mercy type killing trouble, a Dr. Kevorkian Trouble. His father had killed seemingly cheerfully, all things considered. His grandfather killed, to Duke's own eyes, with more reluctance. even though he was ultimately killed by Sarah. Sarah, who would go on to be Duke’s babysitter and then his best friend.

_Fucking Haven._

Fucking Troubles. She had put herself on the line for them for years, and the town kept putting her in harm’s way, kept expecting her to save them, without so much as a thank you.  _Maybe it's time the town started looking out for her,_  he thought.

A rustle of leaves, the snapping of some twigs, and the cocking of triggers had Duke whirling around drawing his gun. Men and women with guns began to pour from the trees. The Guard.

"Hey!” he shouted in warning, training his gun randomly. There were a dozen of them. They came at him from behind the Barn and from the trees

“Relax, Crocker." Jordan's voice sounded from the throng. He watched as people parted for her, as she climbed the incline towards him, walking confidently despite the fact that the ground was slick from rain. She was a lieutenant, he realized. She had a dark smirk on her face, a black widow resplendent in leather and dark clothing. "If we wanted to kill you, this would be over already.”

“How did you find the Barn?” he asked, his eyes darting from person to person. He was severely outnumbered, and Nathan and Audrey -- if they ever came out -- wouldn't be enough back up.

“We had every member of the Guard looking for it." Kirk said.  Duke had seen him only two days earlier, when they rescued Ginger’s father. Christ, that felt like a lifetime ago.

“Where’s Parker?” the man demanded.

“Disneyworld," Duke snarked.

Jordan nodded approvingly, her eyes smug and reproachful. "She’s already gone in. Good.”

“With Nathan.” He found it oddly satisfying when he saw in her eyes that he’d hit his intended target.

“Why’d he go in?” A young male voice from somewhere behind Duke piped up.

Duke watched Jordan and Kirk shoot the man deadly glares. He decided to fan the flames. “He likes to restore crappy old buildings. I guess he thought he’d see what he could do with the place.”

“The Barn won’t leave as long as he’s inside.” Jordan’s voice sounded almost panicked as she lowered it to confer with Kirk.

“The Barn won’t leave until Audrey’s ready to go,” Duke snapped. “And she’s got a few things to do still.”

“Like what?” Kirk’s face was angry and skeptical and Duke could tell the leader of the Guard wasn’t any more sure how badly Nathan being in the Barn would screw up their plans than Jordan was.

Duke rolled his eyes at them. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s a psycho serial killer on the loose in this town. Audrey’s in there trying to find a way to stop her.”

“Her?” Jordan’s eyes widened involuntarily. She’d known the Bolt Gun Killer wasn’t Grady, but Nathan had also referred to the killer as “he.” Hearing Duke refer to the killer, as a woman was a surprise.

Duke weighed his options, weighed what he knew against the trust Audrey and Nathan had placed in him, and in Dwight, as to who James Cogan really was. “The Skinwalker is the Colorado Kid’s wife.” He refused to share what he knew about James Cogan’s parentage.

“Fucking Haven,” Kirk muttered.

_Tell me about it_ , Duke thought.

“Still don’t understand what that has to do with the Barn,” Jordan sneered, folding her arms across her chest like a petulant child.

“Lucy brought the Colorado Kid into the Barn to resurrect him after her was murdered.” A strong, familiar voice drifted out of the woods.

Duke whirled around in shock, his eyes not wanting to believe who they saw walking towards him through the rain. “Get out of here, Vince, before you get hurt.”

Ignoring Duke’s warning, Vince looked to Kirk. “Report.”

“Parker’s gone in the Barn. Wuornos is with her. Crocker says they’re trying to stop some skinwalking serial killer, says they went after the Colorado Kid.”

“Why are you telling him all this?” Jordan demanded angrily.

“‘Cuz he’s the boss.” Kirk’s answer was simple, and left no room for argument. Jordan may have been a lieutenant, but Kirk was clearly the captain.

“What?” Duke and Jordan said simultaneously, their faces mirror images of shock.

“You’re in the Guard,” Duke said, reeling. His brain was screaming. Who the fuck knew Vince was the General?

Vince rolled up his sleeve, and Duke felt the terror bloom in his belly as the familiar black maze tattoo materialized on the older man’s arm. “They work for me,” the old newspaper man said. “Always have."

Duke couldn’t take his eyes off the tattoo. It seemed as though all sound was gone from the world, leaving nothing behind but him face to face with the sign of his own mortality. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, it faded again. _That’s a new one_ , Duke thought. “What does this mean for us, Vince?” he asked, forcing his voice to be steady, cocky and derisive.

“I’m not going to kill you, Duke,” Vince replied, sounding bored.

“I appreciate that,” he replied dryly, his voice clear that he thought Vince was full of shit.

Kirk re-levelled his gun at Duke. “Show some respect, Crocker. Most of us wanted to get rid of you and Vince is the reason we never did.”

Duke’s eyes darted to Vince. He only nodded in confirmation. “Believe me, they wanted to.”

Exasperated, Jordan drew Duke’s attention. “This isn’t about you, Duke. When this is over, we can all just walk away.”

“Hell hath no fury, eh Jordan?” He pointed his weapon at her, squinting as water dripped from his hair into his eyes.

“I’m not here because of Nathan." Her voice was insistent, bored and practiced, and Duke couldn’t help but think the lady doth protest too much. “Right.”

“When that Barn disappears, my trouble goes with it.”

Jordan was a chameleon it was part of what made her dangerous. Duke understood why Nathan had wanted to help her, why he’d thought he could manipulate her into saving Audrey, why she’d thought she could manipulate him into getting rid of Audrey. In an instant, her eyes had gone from cold and uncaring to depthless and tear-filled. “I’ll be able to touch people, be touched. I just want to be normal again, Duke. I’ve lost too much...” As her voice choked, Duke was surprised to find that he believed her emotions to be genuine.

“I get it Jordan,” Duke said softly, his gun still leveled on her. “Your Trouble’s pretty fucked up. And what triggered it is even more fucked. It’s awful what happened to you.” He watched the betrayal flash across her face as she realized Nathan had told him what happened to her. “But think about more than yourself for once.”

“Stop thinking about myself?” she asked incredulously. “What about you? Do you really want Audrey so badly you’re willing to damn us all, just so you can be around a woman who isn't in love with you?” She laughed bitterly. “Both you and Nathan, in love with a woman neither of you can have.”

“I dunno,” he replied casually. “I’d say he’s had her pretty good. A lot.” It was crass and vicious, designed to keep digging the knife deeper into Jordan. At the same time, it was a good vehicle for him to release any lingering bitterness he felt. Two birds, one stone, and all that.

Jordan straightened her spine, drawing herself up to her full height, as though to show his sticks and stones hadn’t hurt her, but he knew they had. “You’re almost...sad.”

“Right back atcha, sweetheart.”

“Alright, enough.” Vince snapped. Jordan’s eyes darted to Kirk, who nodded. With a final glare at Duke, she stalked back to other members of the Guard. He’d half expected her to stick her tongue out at him.

“What’re you gonna do, Vince, huh?” Duke asked. “Force Audrey to go away? Hold her at gunpoint? It has to be her choice!”

“She’ll choose to go away,” Vince said confidently. “She always does.

Duke frowned. “I don’t get you, Vince. I thought you liked Audrey.”

“I do,” he said simply. “I loved Sarah, and Lucy. But we need to be practical Duke.” He stepped towards him like a professor imparting a lesson. “Dave and I tried keeping Sarah out of the Barn.”

“Yeah,” Duke waved it away dismissively. “Audrey remembered. The Barn wouldn’t go boom.”

“No,” Vince said, the sad nostalgia in his voice palpable. “It didn’t work. Nothing works but that woman going into the Barn. That’s what stops the Troubles.”

“But only for twenty seven years!” Duke’s voice echoed across the field. “Vince, man, what if she could stop it for good? What if all this time, instead of using her as a band-aid, we need her to face the Troubles, head on and stop them once and for all?”

Vince looked sad, suddenly ancient, and Duke could see how three cycles of the Troubles had weighed him down. “Nothing stops the Troubles Duke. I’ve watched her try, twice. The best we can hope for is twenty-seven years of peace.”

Kirk stepped forward. “And to make sure we get those twenty-seven years of peace, I think we’re gonna wait here with you.” He gestured at the Barn with his gun. “Make sure Audrey’s still in there when it leaves.”

Duke aimed his gun right between Kirk’s eyes, watching as water dripped from the barrel. “Any of you come for this gun and I’ll separate at least three of you from you Troubles before anyone touches me.”

“Enough,” Vince said, to all of them. He hunched his shoulders against the ever-increasing rain. “We wait for Audrey to come out.”

 

* * *

 

They walked through the living room and into the kitchen, which was painted a buttery yellow. A large stainless steel sink looked out onto the backyard, and a brown gas stove sat amid formica counter tops and heavy oak cabinets. Following her instincts, Audrey led Nathan down a short flight of stairs and out a side door. The air smelled crisp and the sun was warm on their skin. Nathan turned his face towards it.

"I'd forgotten what this felt like, the sun." He smiled up into it, basking for a moment before looking at her, eyes cool and steady. "But it's a lie, a construct." He walked towards the backyard, following the sound of power tools.

They found him in the garage, hunched over a table saw. From the look of things, he was building furniture. Speechless they could only watch him, this grown man who was their son. He moved with ease and efficiency, clearly a skilled craftsman.

He had been an artist, working at an ad agency in Denver, before he'd come to Haven. Audrey knew that much from the background check on him. He'd been last seen leaving his office at ten-fifteen, had told a co-worker he was going to Starbucks for a "real coffee" and an egg sandwich, according to the missing persons report. He hadn't left the house with any luggage, according to the statement Arla had given Nederland PD. No one had found any plane tickets booked in his name. Nevertheless, somehow he'd ended up in Haven, and Arla had followed him; and ultimately they had found nothing but death.

James's head shot up, like an animal scenting danger. Slowly, he turned off the saw and removed his safety goggles.

"Can I help you folks?" He stepped out of the garage into the sunlight, hands tucked into faded denim pockets, stance wide.

He looked younger than Nathan, which was a relief. Nathan wasn’t sure how, in the midst of all this crazy, that he would have coped with a son who looked old enough to be Garland Wuornos’s brother. So that was at least something, he thought. He felt Audrey grip his hand. She was trembling.

“James?” she asked, her voice full of tears and hope.

Enigmatically, the man with the close cropped, slightly wavy brown hair nodded. “Mom.”

He didn't seem surprised to see her. His gaze tracked over to Nathan and he frowned, studying the lean man in his mid thirties with intense blue eyes, a man who held onto his mother’s hand like it was a lifeline. There was a certain familiarity James couldn't ignore. He could feel it in his bones, knew this strange man like he knew his own name.

Nathan met his son’s curious gaze. “James,” he said, chuckling to himself at the absurdity of the situation. “I’m your father.”

To his credit, Cogan didn’t react outrageously. He looked sidelong at Audrey. “Seriously?”

She nodded. “This is Nathan Wuornos.”

“You’re going to have to spell that for me sometime,” James said with a smirk. “Always wondered who you were.” He looked at his mother. “Is he...? When are you...?”

Audrey shook her head. “He’s from now. Which is 2010.” She said it with a forced laugh. Funny, she hadn't realized she'd be nervous.

The man formerly known as the Colorado Kid sighed. “This is a Haven thing, isn’t it?”

Audrey smiled and Nathan chuckled. “Oh yeah, he’s definitely ours.” He shrugged sheepishly by easy of explanation. "A Trouble sent me back to 1955 and I met Sarah."

James frowned as he processed this new information "Wait, Wournos..." He looked from parent to parent as memories flooded into his head like the sea at high tide. His eyes snapped to Audrey. "Garland..." He pointed at Nathan. "You're Max and Annemarie's kid. Garland took you both in after Hansen..." He ran a hand through his hair, a habit familiar to Audrey not because she was recalling any of Lucy's memories, but because she had seen Nathan make a similar gesture time and again.

"Holy shit, I...we...Lucy and I babysat you. I helped Annemarie put groceries in her car a few times." James began to pace, fidgety and restless. "She was my grandmother?" He grimaced. "Max Hansen is my grandfather? Fucking Haven."

"Garland Wuornos is your grandfather," Nathan said emphatically, his voice firm.

Audrey held her breath as her lover and adult son exchanged intense, weighted stares. It was a lot of information for James to take in -- she and Nathan may have had a few days to absorb it all; their son, on the other hand, only had a few minutes. His memories of Max and Garland were of the criminal and police officer, of the man who beat his wife and the man who partnered with Lucy. Nathan, whether in extreme denial or sublime acceptance, had hardly ever referred to Hansen as his father. Biology was biology, but the Chief had been his father, and that was the end of it. Audrey suspected Nathan’s resolve towards that end only grew the more he learned about his parents’ past, about his own.

Nathan didn’t look angry, but determined. Audrey said nothing as her eyes darted between father and son. Then James nodded. A second later, he smiled, "Gar finally found the stones to tell Annemarie he was in love with her, huh?" He chuckled. "Lucy used to razz him about it. She said he'd been in love with Annemarie all his life."

"So why did she marry Hansen?" Nathan couldn't help himself. The temptation was overwhelming to get every piece of information that his son had.

James shrugged. "It was the 70s. Gar was in Nam. Dunno the whole story, sorry."

Audrey rubbed a hand up and down Nathan's arm. She knew how it felt to have an incomplete past and no answers. She turned to her son, held out a hand. She fought the impulse to hug him. "I know this is weird, but," she stepped towards him. "It's very nice to finally meet you."

He rolled his eyes, an uncontrollable impulse, and snickered as he shook her hand. "What's your name and rank, this time?"

She blushed. "Audrey Parker, FBI."

"I was kidding about the rank part," he joked, but saw she was serious. "FBI, huh?" James affected a look of being overwhelmingly impressed. "Go big or go home, eh?"

"I guess," she said with a small smile. "I'm a cop now."

James's gaze flicked to Nathan. "What about you?"

Now it was Nathan's turn to feel embarrassed. "I'm, uh, the Chief of Police."

"Haven PD doesn’t have a policy against fraternization?" He said it with a smirk, trying to ignore how deeply weird it felt to be talking about his parents' sex life, however obliquely.

"You grandfather tried," Nathan muttered. "After he died."

Audrey looked at him sharply, turning away from James. “Wait, what?”

“The Hopkins case,” he said quickly, under his breath. “The ghosts you couldn’t see. Can we talk about this after we get out of a Barn that likes to kidnap you and stop Ar--- the Skinwalker?”

“Fine,” she muttered. “But don’t think I’m going to forget about this.”

The jokes about her memory wrote themselves, but Nathan wisely kept any that sprang to mind to himself.

James cleared his throat. “Why don’t we go inside?” He edged around his...parents, and led them towards the house.

“Do you know where you are?” Audrey asked cautiously.

He smirked at her over his shoulder, “I know my own house, don’t I?”

She bit her lip, exchanging glances with Nathan. She had said they were from 2010, but it was like it hadn't truly registered with him.

"James..." She said his name slowly, cautiously. "What's the last thing you remember, with Lucy?”

He opened the creaky side door, wiped his boots on a mat out of habit, and clomped up the stairs. Sticking his head in the fridge in search of a soda, he answered, “Lucy ran away. She left Haven to escape the Hunter." His voice was tinged with both understanding and annoyance. "I had a flight out of Bangor."

He offered a can of soda to Nathan, who only shook his head. Audrey made the same gesture before he could offer. With a shrug, James popped the tab on a can of Coke and walked into the living room. “I went down to Hammock Beach to get one last look at the place. “ He chuckled lightly. “It’d been a hell of a trip. Went looking for my mother, found Lucy and the Troubles instead.” James settled into an armchair, resting his ankle on his other knee.

“What happened next?” Nathan asked as he and Audrey sat on the couch, as they had done so many times before, interviewing victims and witnesses.

James sipped the soda “Dunno. Flew back I guess.” He frowned. “I.... don’t really remember.”

Audrey sighed, leaning over and putting her hand on his leg. “James. You didn’t catch a flight. You were killed.” She took a deep breath. "You were murdered, to lure Lucy back to Haven."


	14. the bitter taste of innocence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which ugly truths are revealed, tears are shed, and clothes are changed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler Warning: Spoilers for all of Haven up through and including the end of S3, although this story does not follow exactly the storyline of S3. I've borrowed some episode dialogue where appropriate. One may also notice references to BSG, Doctor Who, Farscape, the Time Traveler's Wife, Buffy, The West Wing, various Nora Roberts novels, and anything else that's influenced me. The title of this piece comes from a line from John Green's book The Fault In Our Stars. Chapter title is from "Sour Times" by Portishead.
> 
> Acknowledgements: Haven belongs to SyFy, Sam and Jim, etc. Thanks to all the Havenites on Tumblr and Twitter who continue to give me such great support, as well as all the reviewers here and at AO3. Huge shout out to my dear LadyCallie for betaing everything I've written for the last 13 years - she has been instrumental in shaping and guiding this piece. her encouragement, fine editting and storytelling skills, and support have been invaluable. Also huge thanks to my MamaK, the venerable rutsky, who encouraged me to write this and who has been reading this piece throughout it's development. Finally, HUGE thanks to Kitty Chandler and Adsartha Hammett, whose"Murderboards" blog has been instrumental in my research of this piece. Seriously, if you've never been there, their in depth analyses of the characters, locations, mythology, and episodes of Haven are genius. Also, they get 100% credit for the phrase "Fucking Haven."

James laughed, a sharp, unsettling bark. “This is a joke, right?”

Sadly, she shook her head. James’ eyes darted to Nathan's, looking for some sort of confirmation that this was a terrible joke. Nathan, knowing what it was like to want someone to tell you that this horrible thing you’d been told was an awful joke or a mistake, simply nodded his head in confirmation.

James shook his head. "You're wrong."

"You know she's not," Nathan said quietly.

"I'm dead?" Their son's face was ashen and horrified.

"No," Audrey surged forward, crouching at his feet, balancing herself by resting her hands on his legs. "You're alive. You're fine, ok? You're fine." She smiled reassuringly. "You're here and your father and I...we've come to get you."

The shock, the implications of the revelation were painfully written all over his face. Unbidden, tears filled his eyes. "Mom, _what the fuck?"_

The fear in his voice broke her and she rose to her feet, leaning over awkwardly to hug him. "I know," she crooned as she rocked her terrified grown son as though he were small and had just woken up from a nightmare. She laid her cheek against the crown if his hair and met Nathan's eyes.

In an instant, an entire lifetime flashed before them, a sublime alternate existence. Her pregnant and beaming; their tiny son bundled in blankets in his mother's arms as his father took dozens of photographs; school plays and dances, science fairs and little league games; a little sister, cherubic with blonde pigtails who liked to ride on her father's shoulders; long walks as the boy scampered ahead giggling and they swung a laughing little girl playfully between them; arguments, sleepless nights, dancing in the kitchen to music from the radio; holidays, birthdays, vacations to a cabin on Dark Score Lake; campfires, Scouting, college. A life, their life, their family, in another time and place where she was she and he was he and they lived a normal life and raised their children in happiness, in security, in peace -- free of the Troubles.

The vision vanished as rapidly as it appeared, coming between blinks, between breaths, amidst heartbeats. Audrey gasped from the shock of it, while Nathan's eyes were wide, his face slack and stunned. 

_What was that?_  he mouthed, not wanting to disturb James. 

_The Barn_. Her voice rang clearly in his head even though her mouth didn't move. Their eyes locked and he nodded. After they got through the day's to do list -- get out of the Barn, stop Arla, keep Audrey from disappearing -- he resolved to try and figure out how he could selectively hear thoughts and the voices of the dead. That, however, was a problem for another day. He watched Audrey stroke their son's hair, murmur to him reassuringly, and contemplated what they'd just seen. Was it a dream; a prophecy? A projection of their wishes and hopes? Or a construct, a lie designed to keep them there, just as the sunlight on his skin had been a lie? He wondered if this was how she spent her time between cycles, in fantasy lands where time held no sway.

James took an audibly deep breath and pulled back from his mother. "I'm alright," he murmured. His face was dry, but his eyes were hollow. His world, everything he thought he knew had been taken from him in an instant. Nathan knew the feeling. Right now, James's mind was reeling with the feels of betrayal, grief and loss, of living a lie.

Audrey stepped back, settled back beside Nathan. He could see that it cost her to step away -- how quickly she took to mothering -- but knew she didn't want to smother him, their adult son who looked to be physically their age. It occurred to Nathan -- bizarrely -- that he was the youngest person in the room.

"Where are we?" James rasped.

"The Barn." Audrey's voice was almost apologetic. "Lucy -- I brought you in here to heal you."

He nodded at the logic of it. "How did it happen?"

"We were hoping you’d remember," Nathan said. "Your body was discovered on Hammock Beach, by Lucy and -- a little boy and his babysitter. My father investigated your murder, tried to pin it on Hansen."

"Not Hansen," James murmured, his brow furrowed with concentration.

Audrey's eyes shone with tears. "I am so sorry, James. I ran away and the Guard had you killed to bring me back, make me go into the Barn."

His eyes snapped up, focusing. "The Guard?"

"Someone with a tattoo like this was your killer." Nathan calmly rolled up his shirt and jacket sleeve to expose his forearm.

"Why the hell do you have that?" His son demanded.

Nathan slanted his eyes at Audrey. "A spectacularly poor life choice." He heard her softly snort beside him.

"He went undercover," she supplied in an attempt to alleviate any doubts James may have been having about his father.

James rose from his chair and began to pace. "I can't remember any of it. I was on the beach, looking back at the docks, then I woke up here, this morning. Thought maybe I'd had a few too many in the plane."

They chuckled politely, the hearts in their chests pounding with nerves. Nathan found the sensation distracting -- he'd forgotten what it physically felt like to be nervous. Any minute James was going to ask them about Arla, and all hell was going to break loose. Clearing his throat, he decided to take a page from the Chief's book: bad news was better delivered fast, like ripping off a band aid.

"We've got some bad news about Arla."

James stopped pacing and his eyes snapped to him, re-focused. "Is she alright?"

"Nathan!" Audrey hissed angrily. She'd been trying to come up with a way to break the news to their son -- gently. The Garland Wuornos method of parenting wouldn't have been her first choice. Nathan met her furious glare with calm, cool, unapologetic eyes. Inside, his heart was already breaking for the pain they were about to inflict on their son.

"You said 2010," James continued, oblivious to the things unspoken that passed between his parents. "She thought I was dead. Did she remarry?" He began pacing  again, his words a jumbled rush. "Good, that's good." The tone of his voice belied his struggle, said more than just his words could. "Twenty seven years, I wouldn't have wanted her to spend all this time waiting for me."

Nathan shifted uncomfortably and slanted his eyes at Audrey. She blanched, unable to hide her reaction. 

James stopped in his tracks. "Oh God, is it worse than that? Is she dead? She's only gotta be what...in her early 60s now. Was it cancer? Was she killed like I was?" His eyes widened. "Christ, she didn't kill herself, did she? I mean, she had some emotional problems, but she'd been working on them, going to therapy. Did she--"

"James!" Audrey sprang off the couch and grabbed his hand, putting an abrupt end to his rambling. His eyes were wild and his chest heaved with quick breaths as he imagined the worst. When he stilled and met her eyes, she took a deep breath. Nothing he was imagining could possibly be as bad as what she needed to tell him.

"Arla's alive. She didn't remarry." Squeezing his hand, she prepared to deliver the killing blow. "She's Troubled, James."

"It kicked in after your murder," Nathan added, recounting what he'd remembered her saying in Audrey's apartment.

_Rip the bandaid off, Lucy Goosey._  Audrey heard Garland’s voice in her head, as clearly as if he were in the room. Too pumped with adrenaline to be stunned, she gulped and looked her son squarely in the eye. “She’s a Skinwalker. All her skin came off, and she’s been killing people and wearing theirs.”

Saving Audrey from delivering the very worst of it, Nathan said, “She’s also been killing people selectively, for parts. She put together a skin suit so that she would look the way you remember.”

"What?" James’s eyes darted from parent to parent. He tried to pull his hand from Audrey's, tried to back away. “No, you’re wrong.”

Blinking back tears, knowing it was only going to get worse, Audrey could only shake her head.

“You’re lying.” He all but spat it at her. The vehemence in James’s voice was like a slap in the face. It was all she could do not to physically recoil from it.

“Why would she lie?” Nathan asked softly, kindly. “What’s the point?”

James whirled on Nathan, wrenching away from Audrey with such force that he stumbled back. “I don’t know you. I don't know her.” His finger pointed in Audrey’s direction. It was an accusation, a weapon. “She’s not Lucy. I knew her. I could  _trust_  her. I can’t trust you.”

He turned to leave, to stalk out of the room, away from what he could not bear to face. Nathan reached out, grabbed his arm to make him stay. On impulse, James swung, his fist connecting soundly with Nathan’s jaw.

Audrey gasped and darted forward, positioning herself between the two men. “Stop it!” she commanded. She looked to Nathan, who could only laugh at the sensation of being punched. It hurt, but even hurt was new.

She turned to her son. ”I am so sorry. But it's all true. She kidnapped me, killed a friend of mine and posed as her to get close to me."

"She killed a cop, wore his skin for months, to get close to your mother. She shot me point blank, gut and heart." Nathan kept his face neutral, and was beginning to scratch the surface of understanding the methods behind the Chief's madness. "She left me for dead and blamed it on someone else."

"When was this?" James sneered. "You look pretty healthy to me. Get holes put in you like that, puts a man down for the count."

"I died," Nathan replied simply. Hearing him say it tore at Audrey.  

"Three weeks ago," he continued. "Your mother found another Troubled person to bring me back."

James' eyes narrowed. "Isn't that convenient?"

"James--" Audrey began, moving towards him.

"Shut up!" He all but bellowed the words, causing her to freeze, like she'd hit a wall. What came after was silence, regrets and mistrust, stillness like a tomb.

Nathan's phone rang, shrill and jarring in the strained quiet of the room. All eyes snapped to him. With a shrug, since it likely wasn't the most ridiculous thing that would happen all day, he took it out if his pocket. "Wuornos." He frowned when he heard the voice on the other end. Holding the phone out to Audrey, he said, "It's for you."

Dubious, she took the phone from him. "This is Parker."

"You're wasting time, Agent Parker." Agent Howard's voice rumbled in her ear.

"Got any suggestions?" She asked sharply, dropping her voice and turning her back  to the men.

He paused a moment. "You know what they say makes the best movies, don't you? The best storytelling? Show, don't tell." With that, the phone went dead.

_The Barn responds to your commands._

_Everything has a cost._

_Show, don't tell._

As both men watched her, Nathan calmly and with trust, James seething and full of grief, Audrey walked to the television, she flicked a switch, turned a knob, and the ancient -- or state of the art -- set clicked and hummed to life. She turned back to her son, could only say, "I'm sorry," and stepped away as a kind of macabre home movie began to play.

_Arla on a bed, a hotel room, weeping. James is dead, cold in the ground, rotting. The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out, the worms play pinochle in your snout. What if Lucy's plan doesn't work? He will be lost to her her. She will be Alone. She cries out. She is melting, peeling. It is gruesome. She cries out in pain, cries out for her husband to save her. There is a knock on the door. Room service. She ordered dinner. Her last meal before going into the Barn with Lucy, where she will see her James again. Quietly, biting her tongue against the pain, oozing, Arla opens the door, hides behind it. A lamp to the back of the head, a steak knife, and the sewing kit she insists on travelling with do in a pinch. The bathtub holds most of the ichor. She wraps her disused skin and the waitress’s body in the bedspread, stuffs it under the tablecloth of the service cart. Bodies are delightfully more pliable sans flesh. She has to be fast, can’t miss the Barn. She sets fire to the blanket behind a fishing shack near the docks and drives away as everything burns._

_The Barn is in a field. Arla sees them as she drives up. Lucy and Garland, carrying James’s body into the Barn. He helped her dig him up, she remembers, after one of the idiot Teagues buried him. Lucy’s head comes up as she hears the car. She says something to Garland, who nods and draws his gun. Lucy kisses him on the cheek, casts one last look at Arla, newly tanned and brunette -- the waitress was taller and there is a bit of excess skin. Arla will have to learn to compensate -- and shuts the Barn door behind her. Arla screams, hollers, pounds on the door. The Barn vanishes. Garland says something but she does not hear._  Leave, Arla. Don’t you come back, ever, or you’ll have me to answer to. They’re gone. _He walks away. She stays for hours; it grows dark and then light and then dark again. She gets in her car and drives. North, to Canada. Her driver’s license -- the waitress's drivers license -- is enough. She finds someone of the same height. African American. Mid fifties. Female. It is like play acting. She learns to assume identities. There is a certain amusement to it, but it never replaces the aching. As the years pass, technology makes it easier to find her victims, to learn their whole lives. The internet is a marvel. She plans. She is never herself. She religiously monitors the Haven Herald website. She can tell when the Troubles begin again -- no town has that many gas leaks. She sees Her picture._  FBI Assists Local PD on Difficult Case. _The Terrible Teagues couldn’t resist, she thinks. She has learned. She has a plan. She will see her James again, and he will love her and she will be his wife. It is time to go back to Haven._

_Let the bodies hit the floor, as the song goes. Men, women. So many. Age, height, race do not matter. They are scrap. She needs the parts. She needs somewhere to work, private, secluded. The old cannery. Tanks, fluid, preservation. Survival. She is gleeful every time she finds another piece of her puzzle. She will be beautiful again. She will be her. No more of these disgusting suits, pretending to be who she is not. WIth him she will be herself again. As Grady, she kidnaps Audrey. Stupid whore, stupid bitch, dressed up for a date with Garland Fucking Wuornos’s fucking son. Fake son, bastard son, Max Hansen’s spawn. Stupid whore. Lying cheating murdering whore. Sarah was a slut, slept with who knows who, got knocked up. Shameful. Arla and James never got to have any children. They will this time. Beautiful children, second chances. She forgets her womb has aged, that she is past child bearing. James died because of Her, and Arla’s Troubled was triggered because of Her. Everything is Her fault. Arla is consumed. Tommy Bowen is perfect, and nicely built. Make them trust him, work with him. She can be patient. Still, she needs to work, get what she needs, be perfect for James. She kills, tries to be discreet. Fucking Wuornos. He suspects. She stops him, kills him. Doesn’t even bother taking his skin. No time, and he isn’t worthy. But there’s always Her. And now Crocker, on to her. Goddamn Troubles, brings Wuornos back. Time to play with the Terrible Teagues. They seem to know everything; all that is, was, and ever shall be. They speak of none of it, get off on their secrets. She can make them talk. The Barn only comes for Audrey. She escapes, there is fire, Tommy burns, again. Everything burns in the end. She needs to lie low, wait. Be patient, always patient, patient for James. The voices of those she killed start to haunt her, the voices she takes when she assumes, consumes._  Hush hush hush _she tells them. The shrink is a better target. She catches her late one night, coming home from who knows where in purple puppy-patterned pajamas and ancient brown Uggs. Should’ve gone with her all along. A week, she gets away with it. It was fun fooling them once. It is a privilege fooling them twice._

_But there is always Her. Fucking bitch whore slut murderer liar.  Everything is Her fault. All the blood in on Her hands, not hers. James will understand. James loves her._ Hello Mommy Dearest. Shut the Fuck Up, Mommy Dearest. Take me to James and you’ll never have to see me again. I want my husband. He’s my husband, we’re in love.  _The title, then the emotion. Mine, mine mine mine mine he will be mine again and we will be together and it will be perfect and I will be beautiful and there will be no more pain or blood and we will be here forever._

Darkness. The end.

The television clicked off of its own accord. End of line. The screen was black, and there was no sound but for heavy breathing. Audrey and Nathan did not dare speak. Tears spilled from Audrey’s eyes soundlessly. It seemed as though everything was shattered. Howard had said everything had a cost. The truth had broken her son. She could all but see the thousands of pieces before her. She reached out behind her, blindly, and felt Nathan grip her hand. He settled another hand on her hip. The weight was comforting.

James’ eyes were dry, but wide and unseeing. At some point, he had fallen to his knees. It was all his fault. Everything. All the pain and loss. He had brought Arla to Haven and she had killed. She had _killed_. His beautiful wife, who liked to wear black because she thought it made her look cosmopolitan; who had been so striking in white on their wedding day; who liked Fleetwood Mac and Depeche Mode, Bob Marley, The Beatles, Joni Mitchell, The Clash; who was involuntarily committed at eighteen, who had tried every medication available but said no to electroshock -- all I need is you, she’d said. He’d believed it. He’d wanted to. It had been so easy. Love and lust and saving someone the way he had been saved, maybe she was what he had been missing all his life. Arla. A killer. A serial killer. Slaughtering innocents all so she could have the face he remembered? Did she not trust him? Not believe he loved her enough to love her whatever she looked like?

His scream was guttural, feral, deafening, a from-the-gut cry of utter despair no living human should ever make. Eventually, his screams turned to sobs, loud and childlike. They came from the heart of him.  It shattered what was left of Audrey and she sank to her knees beside him. Wrapping her arms around him, she rocked them both as though he was still her baby and she could make all his pain go away simply with her touch. She rubbed her hand up and down his back, murmured soothing words to him, apologies, love. Her fingers stroked his hair, her tears soaked his shirt and his soaked hers. She took his pain and tried to keep it, so that he wouldn’t have to feel it anymore. She thought it might break her, but that was okay so long as her son didn’t hurt anymore. She had given him all his pain, had been the cause, however directly or indirectly.

Nathan was unable to bear silent witness to their pain for very long; his son he’d only just met and the woman he’d loved for lifetimes. He crouched behind Audrey, supported her weight, supported them both. He draped himself around her, cradling his lover and their son. He pressed kisses to Audrey’s temple, nuzzled her cheek. He wrapped his hands around her hands as they held their son, as they shared in his grief and pain. James was shuddering, trembling, wracked by the grief and shock that poured through him. Nathan could feel him shaking. It vibrated through Audrey and into him, rippling out like shockwaves from an explosion.

Grief, rage, pain, guilt -- oh, so much guilt; James felt as though he was standing in the middle of a tempest, like he was lost in it, drowning. Arla was a murderer, a kidnapper, has ruined so many lives. She was so sick, so twisted and confused, a shadow of the woman he’d met hiking the Sierras with friends from college. This morning -- what he  _thought_  was this morning -- he’d woken up thinking he’d just gotten back from Haven. It hadn’t occurred to him that Arla wasn’t home. She’d gone to the market, he’d thought, out running errands. Everything seemed so normal. He was going to build her a new dining room table and chairs. An anniversary present. She would have loved them.

Of course, none of it had been real. He’d been asleep for twenty seven years, or the goddamned Barn had brought these two -- Audrey, not Lucy, and Nathan; his parents, his biological parents. How bizarre -- back in time. There was no time. No light. No up, no down. All of it fake, none of it real. A construct, a story.

“You should’ve left me dead,” he rasped, gasping for breath, hoarse from sobbing.

Audrey squeezed him tightly, whispering in his ear, "Not in a million years." She felt Nathan brush a kiss lightly against the back of her head, then start to ease away. Gently, so she could find her balance, he pushed to standing. She could feel his eyes on her, asking, waiting. She turned her head to look at him and couldn't help but smile. He looked at her, eyes wet, face radiating love. She nodded in answer to his unspoken question. With a slight wink of encouragement, he withdrew to give her time alone with their son. She'd always been good at talking people up, or down, whether they were Troubled or just troubled. Whether James was capital-T Troubled remained to be seen, but he needed her.

"James, listen to me," Audrey began gently, sitting back on her heels to give them both a bit of personal space. Unlike her fraught conversation with Nathan on the beach the previous afternoon, she waited for James to look at her. She knew her time  was rapidly running out, but she wanted to give her son all the time he needed.

When he finally raised his eyes to meet hers, her heart broke all over again. They were ravaged, hollowed out, red and swollen from weeping. He looked ten years older than he had when they'd first seen him. They'd done that to him, she thought. She let the guilt of it wash over her, knowing that she'd caused her child pain. 

_We all cause our children pain._  A woman's voice that she did not entirely recognize sounded in her head.  _Anyone who tells you differently is selling something. The best we can do is not do so maliciously._

_I knew the news Arla would hurt him,_  Audrey replied, unsure of to whom she was speaking.

_And still you could not keep it from him. Arla's choices cause him pain, not your telling of them._

"It's not your fault," Audrey said to James, feeling bolstered by the mystery voice.  _Does the Barn have its own kind of sentience?_ she wondered. At this point, a supernatural structure that could talk to her in her head wouldn't have been the most bizarre thing she'd ever encountered.

He scoffed.

"It's not." She took a deep breath. "It's not your fault and..." She thought about what the voice had said. "And it's not mine either. Arla is sick. If I'd left you dead...we have no way of knowing that she wouldn't be back here, doing what she's doing to punish me for not saving you."

"I don't understand," James murmured. "How she could do this."

"The woman you married, the woman you loved, did not do this." Audrey didn't know if that was entirely true. She suspected Arla might've always had this in her and her Trouble kicking in was as good an excuse as any to let the monster out, but James didn't  need to know that. "What happened to you was a tragedy, but you didn't ask to be killed. Her grief consumed her, destroyed her, turned her into something else."

"A Skinwalker." The word tasted heavy and foul in his mouth.

She shook her head, "A murderer. Her grief triggered her Trouble, but I think the trauma of it all just...broke her. And she doesn't want help being put back together."

"Where is she?"

"In town. Howard -- I guess you'd have known him as Manning, Lucy's editor -- sent her on a wild goose chase looking for you."

He scrubbed a hand over his face. "She'll figure it out, and then she'll be rip-shit. She never did like being lied to." He slapped his thighs and climbed to his feet, swaying with the vertigo as all the blood drained from his head. He closed his eyes til it passed, then held a hand out to his mother to help her too her feet. "I'm going with you," he said in a don't-fight-with-me-on-this-one voice so like his father's Audrey couldn't help but smile.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

James looked around, frowned. "Where'd..." He winced. "I don't think I can call him 'Dad.' Not yet, anyway."

"'Nathan' is just fine," the man in question remarked as he strolled back into the room. "Half the time I called my dad 'The Chief.'" 

Audrey laid a hand on James's arm. "Do you wanna take a minute, before we go?"

He sighed. "Yeah, lemme go change into a clean shirt, clean up a little." He started out of the room, paused. "I know this is all fake. My clothes aren't gonna disappear when I leave the Land of Make Believe, will they?"

Audrey grimaced. "I don't think so." She smiled reassuringly at her son and watched him leave the room.

Nathan leaned down and murmured, "You're lying through your teeth."

"Oh yeah," she breathed. "But let's assume my influence over the Barn extends far enough that he'll be able to keep the clothes on this back." 

Nathan smirked, then wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Grateful for the relief, she sank into him exhausted. "Is he ok?"

She laid her head against his chest. "No. But he will be. He's strong."

Nathan pecked a kiss against the crown of her head. “Like his mom.”

Warmth spread through her, a balm and blessed relief after a fraught morning. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally. There was a part of her that just wanted to curl into him and hide from the world, from her responsibilities, from her destiny. But she was standing in an illusion of her formerly-dead adult son's house as it looked in the early 80s, talking about his skin-wearing serial killer wife, while his father, who had travelled back in time fifty-four years and met a past version of herself, which led to said adult son’s conception, stood quiet and resolute, supporting her while she wanted to fall apart. Damned if their lives weren't a bit of a freak show. There was no time for her to hide. There was a laundry list of things they needed to face, and they needed to face them, head on.

“Did you ask him about what Arla said? About him knowing what Lucy knew about ending the Troubles and keeping you here?” Nathan asked. 

His voice rumbled in his chest, the vibrations tickling her ear as she leaned against him.

Audrey shook her head, “I figured one thing at a time. ‘Hi, your wife is a serial killer! By the way, do you know how I can save my own ass?’ seemed like a bad thing to say.”

In spite of the situation, Nathan chuckled.There was a part of him that wanted to stay in there. They were in the Barn, with their son, his Trouble was gone. He could be with Audrey, they could be with James, Audrey could make the Barn disappear and take the Troubles with it, and Haven would be at peace. Except he’d be abandoning what his father had wanted him to do -- take care of the town -- and they’d be leaving a murdering psychopath on the loose.

The Barn was a siren, a trap. Maybe it was designed that way, to be comforting to Audrey while she waited to return to Haven. It was a cage, but at least it was a guilded one, that provide comfort and shelter. The comfort was the allure, the way to catch the fly in the ointment. He didn’t know how much time had passed since they’d been inside. It felt like time was racing away like the sea at low tide.

James stepped back into the living room, wearing rough pants and work boots, a gray thermal shirt and a beige and black flannel shirt. He looked about as ready for action as Audrey figured he was going to get. He looked like he’d been through the ringer, but his eyes were alert, his skin damp -- he’d splashed some water on his face, Audrey supposed. With some reluctance, she walked out of Nathan’s embrace and towards their son.

“Okay?” she inquired cautiously.

He took a deep breath, his chest visibly rising as it filled with air. “I guess,” he replied, with a forceful exhale.

“Today, okay is about the best any of us can hope for,” Nathan interjected. His son snorted with a quiet laugh in response.

Audrey looked at the two men she loved, her lover and her son, the former of whom she had known for six months and fifty-five years, and the latter whom she had known for five minutes and twenty seven years. “Alright, let’s get to work.” She squeezed Nathan’s hand and stepped towards their son. “We need to find your wife."


	15. hope plays a wicked game with the mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone gets soaking wet, Audrey realizes some hard truths, and guns go off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler Warning: Spoilers for all of Haven up through and including the end of S3, although this story does not follow exactly the storyline of S3. I've borrowed some episode dialogue where appropriate. One may also notice references to BSG, Doctor Who, Farscape, the Time Traveler's Wife, Buffy, The West Wing, various Nora Roberts novels, and anything else that's influenced me. The title of this piece comes from a line from John Green's book The Fault In Our Stars. Chapter title is from "Lost" by Within Temptation.
> 
> Acknowledgements: Haven belongs to SyFy, Sam and Jim, etc. Thanks to all the Havenites on Tumblr and Twitter who continue to give me such great support, as well as all the reviewers here and at AO3. Huge shout out to my dear LadyCallie for betaing everything I've written for the last 13 years - she has been instrumental in shaping and guiding this piece. her encouragement, fine editting and storytelling skills, and support have been invaluable. Also huge thanks to my MamaK, the venerable rutsky, who encouraged me to write this and who has been reading this piece throughout it's development. Finally, HUGE thanks to Kitty Chandler and Adsartha Hammett, whose"Murderboards" blog has been instrumental in my research of this piece. Seriously, if you've never been there, their in depth analyses of the characters, locations, mythology, and episodes of Haven are genius. Also, they get 100% credit for the phrase "Fucking Haven," and for the concept of Howard being an avatar.

James looked from Audrey to Nathan. "So, not to put a damper on things but...how the hell do we get out of here?"

Nathan silently laid a finger to the side of his nose, and his son chuckled. _Not it._

Audrey rolled her eyes at the juvenility. In all honesty, she had no earthly idea, but she had a hunch, and if she'd learned anything, it was to follow her hunches. "We go out your front door."

Nathan had learned to school his features, keep them blank. Sometimes it was protection, sometimes it was wisdom. If he let his face show what he was thinking -  _I love you, but you're out of your mind_  - she'd have slapped him silly. James, however, was less wise. To say the look on his face was skeptical would have been a gross understatement.

Audrey half expected him to ask if she had a bridge in Brooklyn she wanted to sell him. She sighed. "The Barn has to do what I tell it to, more or less. If I want to walk out your front door and be back in Haven, that's where we'll be."

"I walked out that door this morning to get the newspaper," James replied. "I didn't end up in Haven."

"It'll be different," she replied.

He arched an eyebrow, "How?"

Before Audrey could open her mouth to reply, Nathan held up a hand for silence. He glanced at his son. "Were you ever able to convince Lucy she was wrong?"

James considered this. "No."

Nathan gave him a wry grin and jerked his thumb at Audrey. "And you think she's gonna be different because...?"

"Law of averages?"

Audrey folded her arms across her chest, and affected a disapproving glare. On the inside, she was beside herself with glee that her son and lover were getting along well - for the moment anyway. Their situation was beyond bizarre. They probably wouldn't ever be able to be normal parents to him, she thought, but at least they could be friends.

"If you two are finished," she remarked archly. "I think it's time we got out of here, don't you?"

Nathan nodded and gestured towards the front door. "After you."

Taking a deep breath, Audrey wrapped her fingers around the door handle and pushed...

* * *

Outside the Barn, the rain was coming down at a steady clip. Everyone was drenched, even Duke, who hadn't had much luck finding shelter under the Barn's eaves. The rain, combined with the cold November weather, made the waiting a misery. There was no sound but for the steady rain and the occasional grunt as someone tried to adjust, tried to somehow get less wet in the pouring rain.

Everyone had gone to a kind of parade rest with their weapons, simply because the sheer energy it took to point weapons at each other for hours on end in the pouring rain was inefficient. No one holstered their weapons, but no one directly pointed any at anyone either. Duke could see the rain was making people twitchy, and he once again silently willed Audrey and Nathan to come out of the Barn. Wet, cranky people and guns weren't a great combination.

He squinted as cold water dripped from his hair into his eyes. Brushing his hair aside, he glanced at Vince. The older man was sodden, the rain drenching his long hair, making him somehow look impossibly older, but also young and dangerous. Vince lead the Guard. For how long? It had been around for generations - was it a familial thing? Had he inherited the position from his father? Was the Guard bizarrely democratic and Vince had won some kind of election? Had it been a violent power struggle?

Duke sighed. Pondering the political structure of a shadowy group prone to violence and deception hadn't been how he thought he'd spend his day. His eyes darted right, then left, then right again. Kirk stood, eyes dark and steady, weapon held diagonally against his chest, the soldier awaiting orders. The pack on his back must've been heavy for all the water it had absorbed, Duke thought. Jordan shone darkly, the rainwater somehow intensifying her dangerous beauty. Her gloved fingers twitched around the butt of her pistol, itching to shoot. Rogue, Duke thought. Dangerous. Might've been sexy if he hadn't know that she was a bit off her rocker. He considered the possibility that she might begin shooting at will, regardless of Vince and Kirk's orders.

Suddenly, he felt the door at his back push against him and he jumped. A member of the Gaurd shouted and a dozen weapons were cocked and primed in an instant. Duke shouted his own warning and aimed his gun.

Audrey sensed, felt rather than heard the commotion and instinctively drew her weapon as she stepped out of the Barn, out of the facsimile of James's house and onto Kick 'Em Jenny Neck. Nathan, reacting to her movement, drew his own gun, moving right as Audrey moved left, the action habitual and familiar. They positioned themselves, without thinking or talking, in front of their resurrected, unarmed son.

She stood between Duke and Nathan, eyes steady and cool as she stared down the assembled members of the Guard. "Stay back," she ordered her son, shivering as the cold rain began to soak her. Mentally, she assessed the situation. Three of them against a dozen, all of whom wanted her in that Barn and gone. She saw pure hatred glint in Jordan's eyes and thought  _she blames me. For taking Nathan from her, maybe; for being the cause of her Trouble, definitely. She could be right, for all I know._

"Sorry Aud," Duke remarked. "These guys really wanted to throw James a 'Welcome Back to Haven' party. I tried telling them they really shouldn't have, but they insisted."

"Can it, Crocker," Kirk snapped.

Jordan aimed her gun directly at Audrey. She trembled, from cold, from emotion. "Go back in the Barn."

"Over my dead body." Nathan took aim at her, his hands strong and steady.

"That can be arranged," she replied snidely, not taking her eyes off of her target.

"No," Audrey said sharply, stepping between the barrel of Jordan's gun and Nathan.

Nathan started forward but James reached out and grabbed his arm. "Let her play it out," he hissed.

"She's gonna get herself killed," Nathan retorted, not taking his eyes off the woman he loved.

James sighed. "Lucy had a standoff with the Guard, when she tried to run. She convinced them to let her go."

"Convinced who?" Nathan asked, reeling from James's recovered memory.

His son shrugged. "Dunno. I wasn't there. But still, give her a minute."

"Got his mother's brains, I see," Duke muttered under his breath.

Audrey's and Jordan's eyes were locked as Audrey walked towards her, drawing her attention away from Nathan. "There are still things I need to do."

"Too bad," Jordan sneered. "Your time is up. I want my Trouble gone."

"So do I," Audrey replied. "But don't you want it gone forever, not just for a little while?"

Jordan's gaze didn't falter, although Audrey detected a slight tremble in the woman's hands. "I'll take the twenty-seven years."

"But then what?" Audrey asked. "What if something happens then and your Trouble gets triggered again? What if I could stop that from  _ever_  happening,  _ever again_?"

Tears filled Jordan's eyes and Audrey was surprised to find she actually felt badly for this woman. "You can't do that."

"Yes, I can." _I think._

"You need to go back inside, Audrey."

Audrey came up short, seeing Vince for the first time. "What the hell?"

"He's the leader," Duke called out. "They've been his all along."

Nathan's eyes snapped over and met Vince's. The elder Teague had been the one who pushed him at Jordan in the first place. What the hell kind of game was he playing?

Audrey's eyes were wide with betrayal. " _Vince_?"

The old newspaper man nodded. "You knew, last time, when you were Lucy, that I was a member of the Guard." He smiled sadly. "We weren't good enough friends this time for you to learn that." His eyes tracked over to Duke and Nathan. "You have new friends, now."

A fury that had been festering towards this man for months finally sprouted. "How dare you! That's why you've been lying to me, keeping secrets from me this whole time, when everything you knew from Sarah, from Lucy - you could have told me! I could have helped people! But you were jealous, weren't you?" She stepped closer to him, oblivious of the scene she was causing or the audience they had. She was so angry, she didn't care.

"Jealous that I didn't need you the way Sarah and Lucy needed you," she accused. "So you decided to punish this entire town - is that it? Sarah couldn't love you the way you wanted her to, because she was in love with -" Audrey stopped, briefly, knowing enough through the red haze of rage that revealing James's paternity would be a deadly mistake. "Someone else, so you tried again with Lucy, didn't you?"

She drilled him in the chest with a sharply pointed finger, gestured wildly with her weapon. She was drawing more and more of the Guards' aim as they perceived her as a threat to their leader, but Vince merely held up a hand.

_Hold your fire._

He'd been expecting this for some time. He and Dave had argued about it. Dave had wanted to tell her everything; everything they knew, everything they'd seen. "It could help her!" Dave had insisted. "Help everyone!" But as the older brother, Vince made the final call. And his call had been to let Audrey figure it out, as Sarah had, as Lucy had. _It was good enough for them,_  he reasoned. They'd been able to do a lot of good during their time, and then they'd gone into the Barn. It didn't have anything to do with Sarah's rejection, or that Lucy had never seen him as anything other than a friend. Or so he'd told himself.

"Lucy was a dear friend," he said, trying to sound jovial and serene.

"She worked at the  _Herald_!" Audrey cried. "Why in the hell did you never think to mention that?"

Vince shrugged affably. "I didn't think-"

"Don't you dare tell me you didn't think it was important," she snapped. "You're not stupid, Vince. You, or your brother. You play like daft old Yankees, but you're sly, aren't you? You're clever." She glanced around, gesturing to the assembled company. "You couldn't be running the Guard if you weren't."

"Audrey," he said, sounding irritatingly patronizing. "I have lived through four cycles of the Troubles. If there was a way to end it, don't you think you'd have found it by now?"

"I might have," she shot back. "If you'd been honest with me."

"Audrey," Vince gripped Audrey's arms as if to shake her. At least, that's how Nathan perceived it. His own vision hazing red, he darted towards Audrey and Vince, leaving Duke alone to protect James.

"Take your hands off her," he snarled, his long legs rapidly closing the distance between them.

Things escalated quickly after that. Kirk moved to intercept Nathan, who responded by punching the man in the face and throwing him to the muddy ground. Two more Guard members leapt to Kirk's aid, and Nathan soon found himself staring down the barrels of two guns. Unconcerned for his own safety, he tried to dart around them, only to receive a few blows to the face and body himself. Duke shouted and raced to his friend's defense. He brought the butt of his gun down against the back of the head of one of Nathan's attackers. The man sank like a stone, hitting the ground with a sloppy wet thud.

Kirk scrambled to his feet and tackled Duke, and they rolled through the mud and puddles, landing punches on each other with impunity. Vince released Audrey and shouted for order, for his men to restrain Nathan and Duke, but for the violence to stop. Audrey, for her part, only saw that her son was unprotected, defenseless, the only one unarmed in a field of trigger-happy Troubled people. She raced through the rain, slipping on the slick grass. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nathan wrestling with the remaining member of the Guard who had tried to restrain him. Duke was being yanked off of Kirk by several other members. But all she knew was that James was alone.

What she didn't see was Jordan, who had been watching the entire proceedings through tear-filled eyes. Audrey had allowed her to briefly dream of a life utterly without the Troubles. Of a life where she could touch and be touched, and not worry that a car accident or a relative dying would traumatize her back into being the human taser.  _It's a lie,_  a sneaky voice in her mind had whispered. It almost sounded like a man's voice. _She lies. She doesn't want you to be cured. She just wants you to let her live, so that she can be with him. She took him away from you. You could have been happy if it wasn't for Her. It's_ Her _fault you're Troubled in the first place. Kill her. Kill her and this can all be over. You can be free._

Free. Free of the Troubles. She could be loved. She could be touch. That was the dream. All this fighting, all this bloodshed, it was  _Audrey's_  fault. _Audrey's_  reappearance made the Troubles start. _Audrey_  was the reason Nathan had never really been able to love her. Audrey was the reason they were standing on this godforsaken island in the fucking cold and rain.

Jordan watched as the blonde woman ran across the field towards the man who had come out of the Barn with her.  _Just shoot her,_  the voice said. _Shoot her and end it._

Weeping with joy at the thought of forever being free, the curse lifted, Jordan slowly raised her gun, her arm steady, her aim true. She stared down the barrel, her breathing deep and even as she lined up the shot. She inhaled and closed her eyes. She was prepared to pull the trigger the moment she opened them and exhaled.

Nathan saw Jordan raise the gun, knew without following its path where she was aiming. His fist made contact with his assailant's nose and the man was no longer a problem. Nathan couldn't feel it, but he was fairly certain he'd broken the man's nose. He leapt over the fallen man and barreled towards Jordan. Dimly, he heard Vince and Duke shout, but his only thought was stopping Jordan, and saving Audrey.

"Audrey!" he bellowed, hoping to draw her attention enough to get her out of Jordan's line of fire. He saw Jordan's finger twitch and launched himself at her, like a football player tackling a quarterback. The both hit the ground with a loud and hard thud as the crack of a gunshot shattered the air.

Everyone froze and stared at the two inert people on the ground.

_Not again,_  Audrey thought desperately as she felt James drag her towards Nathan's still form.  _We haven't come this far for him to die - again._  She dropped to her knees at his side as Duke skidded to a stop beside her. Together, they rolled Nathan's still form off of Jordan's body. His eyes were closed, his face slack. Too familiar, too similar. They'd already been here twice. Audrey couldn't tell by looking at him whether or not he was breathing. Her hands frantically ran over him, searching for wounds. Duke felt for a pulse.

"He's alive," he announced.

"'Course I'm alive," Nathan muttered. His eyes popped open, and then reflexively squinted as the rain hit his face.

With a teary laugh, Audrey let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. "We've gotta stop meeting like this," she said, launching herself at him and hugging him as he sat up. He gathered her close, not caring for the rain or the dozen or so armed people that still surrounded them.

"Thought I'd lost you," she murmured.

"Same goes," he replied, holding her tightly to him, not caring for the rain, or anyone watching them. He was surrounded by her- by her smell, by her touch, her hands gripping at him, anchoring them both, her breath hot on his neck. He breathed her in.

Duke glanced at the wet ground. "Uh, guys?" He pointed to a small but fresh blood pool. "I'm pretty sure you got shot."

"Oh my god!" Audrey sprang away from Nathan, once again searching for wounds. Sometimes his lack of feeling was really a problem. She yanked his jacket aside and found the source of the blood. Nathan had been shot through the shoulder. Working quickly and efficiently, she unbuttoned his shirt to get a better look at the wound.

Nathan winced as her fingers probed it. The downside, he discovered, to feeling Audrey's touch was that he could then feel pain.

"Looks like a through and through," she remarked, his blood on one of her hands. "She didn't hit anything major."

"Just my shoulder," he pouted.

"Now stop that," she ordered briskly. "It could have been much worse. You're very lucky. Now, I just need to find something for a quick field dressing..."

Duke and Nathan blinked at her. Her entire tone of voice had changed; her accent. Feeling their eyes on her, Audrey stilled. She looked up and saw that James was looking at her oddly.

"What?" she asked.

"That..." Duke began.

"Was Sarah," Nathan finished softly, hoping that James wouldn't overhear.

Audrey sighed. She had a headache, but at this point, who could say what from. "Dammit." She scrubbed her clean hand over her face. "I am so over this day."

"And she's back," Duke announced.

For form, and to lighten the mood, she rolled her eyes. "I need something to stop the bleeding."

A shadow passed over her and a dry handkerchief fell into her field of vision. "Here," Vince said quietly.

Wordlessly, Audrey snatched the cloth out of his hand and pressed it to Nathan's shoulder. James squatted and held another cloth he'd pulled from his pocket to the exit wound. She smiled gratefully.

Feeling slightly odd at being fawned over by the two of them, Nathan glanced at Vince. "Your girl's unstable."

Vince glanced down at Jordan, pale and unconscious. When she and Nathan had hit the ground, her head had cracked against the cold hard earth and she'd been knocked unconscious. "She won't be a problem anymore."

"See that she's not," Audrey snapped.

"We should get them both to a hospital," Duke remarked, gently testing his own bruised jaw and wiping blood from his mouth.

"She's not going anywhere," Kirk said, looking at Audrey from his crouch at Jordan's side. "Except in that Barn."

"Man, how hard did I hit you?" Duke yelled. "Serial killer. On the loose. Remember?"

"So let him stop her," Kirk said of Nathan. "You don't need her."

"Wanna bet?" Nathan responded darkly.

"Alright enough!" Audrey shouted. She grabbed Nathan's hand and slapped it to the cloth she'd been holding. "Whatever I say, go with it," she murmured to him and James. Rising to her feet, she prepared for her final battle with the Guard.

"I have ten hours before I need to be in the Barn."

"Says who?" Kirk demanded, rising to his own feet.

Audrey locked eyes with Vince. "Howard."

"The avatar," Vince supplied, at Kirk's frown.

"Sure, whatever." She waved it away. Too much now, too much to do, not enough time. "He gave me until midnight to find a way to end the Troubles for good. Arla has those answers."

"Why her?" Vince asked.

"Lucy and James found a way, but I don't remember it and neither does he," she said. Behind her, James nodded, even though he had no clue what she was talking about. "But Arla told me he told her. She won't tell me until I bring her James. It's why we got him out." Audrey couldn't turn around, couldn't take her eyes off Vince and the Guard. She hoped he knew she was lying, that she'd been searching for him for a long time, all the more so once she'd discovered he was her son.

"She could be lying," Kirk murmured.

Vince shook his head. "She isn't." He turned to Kirk. "Stand down. We're going to give her the ten hours."

Hope bloomed in her for the first time since they'd come out of the Barn.

"Then what?" Duke asked from his place at Audrey's side. He'd inserted himself among them while they'd been talking. With Nathan sidelined and James on triage, he hadn't wanted her in there without back up.

"If Arla's lying, or it doesn't work," Vince told her, "you've gotta go in that Barn."

"I know," she replied softly.

"Like hell!" Nathan called as James helped him to his feet.

"Be quiet," Audrey snapped at him. She turned her attention back to the two men before her. With a brisk nod, she said, "It's a deal."

Kirk sighed, resigned to his orders. He circled his hand in the air a few times. "Wrap it up," he called to his people. "We're done here."

Audrey laid her hand on Vince's arm. "Thank you, Vincent."

He smiled sadly. "Sarah used to call me that."

She felt Nathan lay a hand against the small of her back. To Vince, she replied, "I know."

Vince's eyes met Nathan's. An entire conversation passed between them in that glance. Anger, jealousy, acceptance, a warning. "You need stitches," the old man remarked.

"Jordan needs a doctor," Audrey remarked with a glance at the still-unconscious woman who lay alone in the pouring rain. None among her comrades would touch her for fear of the consequences.

Feeling a wash of pity, Audrey dug out her cellphone. She punched a number on speed dial and spoke before the person who picked up had a chance to. "Laverne, it's Parker. I need you to contact the State Police. I've got two in need of Medivac on Kick Em Jenny Neck. One GSW, one possible head trauma. Tell them we've got an injured officer."

"Audrey, sweetie," Laverne rasped when she could finally get a word in edgewise. "I was just gonna call you. You and the Chief gotta get in here ASAP."

Audrey frowned, setting the call to speaker. "Why?"

There was a sound of a scuffle, of skin striking skin, Laverne's cry of pain, and then a new voice came over the line. "You lying fucking whore."

"Arla."

"That's right, you bitch. I am sick of your lies." Arla's voice was beyond angry, spewing vitriol and hatred and madness. "You give me my husband right fucking now, or people start dying. I told you what I've been doing til now was just an appetizer, and you can bet your ass I meant it. You have sixty minutes to get here, or I start shooting. One person, every fifteen minutes, until you give me my husband or until they're all dead. Your choice."

"Arla," James said, his voice tremulous. He didn't really understand how they were communicating. The device Audrey held looked like no walkie-talkie he'd ever seen.

"James?!" Her voice was gleeful, suddenly young and fresh and teary. "James, baby? Is that you?"

"It's me," he said, forcing his voice not to betray the revulsion he felt. "I'm out, baby. I'm fine."

"You need to get away from her. She killed you!"

James frowned. "What? No, she didn't."

"She did! She isn't safe. You can't trust her. Come to me, I'll protect you."

"I will," he promised, his eyes locked with Audrey's. "I'm gonna come get you, sweetheart. Just stop this, let them all go. You don't have to hurt anyone."

She laughed, throaty and lighthearted. "Hush now. They're going to hurt me, don't you understand? I have to protect myself. She controls them. She wants to kill me."

"I don't want to hurt you, Arla," Audrey said gently. "Let James and I help you."

"You better not harm a hair on his head," the madwoman told her.

"He's fine. I won't hurt him."

"Better not. Fifty five minutes." Arla disconnected the call.

James ran a hand, stunned, through his wet hair. "Oh my god."

Audrey turned to Nathan, panic and adrenaline coursing through her. "We're never going to get there in time."

Duke folded his arms across his chest. His shirt was soaked, torn, bloody and muddy. "Took us about an hour in the boat I got. You won't get to the station in time, even if I punch it."

"I might be able to help ," Vince interjected. "I brought my helicopter."

Three pairs of eyes landed on him. "Helicopter?" Audrey, Nathan, and Duke's voices exclaimed in unison.

"Okay, let's never do that again," Duke muttered, eyes dancing from friend to friend.

Nathan glared at the elder Teague. "We can't trust you."

"You don't have a choice," the other man shot back.

"Nathan." Audrey's voice held warning. "He's right, and time's wasting." Better the devil you know, she thought. "Can we take Jordan?"

Vince shook his head. "My men will take care of her. There's not enough space. I've got four seats, plus me and my co-pilot."

Duke choked out an astonished laugh. "You fly it?"

"I flew helicopters in Korea," Vince answered proudly.

Audrey wondered if he had felt a bond with Sarah since they'd been through the same war - or so they'd thought. "We've got to move," she insisted. "You're sure they'll take care of her?"

"I'll make sure of it," Vince said, surprised he was stunned by her kindness. Jordan had tried to kill her, and still Audrey wanted to make sure she was taken care of.  _Maybe Dave wasn't all wrong,_  he considered as he moved off to confer with Kirk.

Audrey looked to James. "I'm sorry." He had regained that shell shocked look she'd seen on his face in the Barn.

With a long sigh, he shook his head. "I can't believe how bad off she is. Do you think you can help her?"

It was Audrey's turn to sigh. "I hope so." She felt Nathan take her hand, squeezed it reassuringly. She resisted the urge to lean into him. "There are a lot of lives that depend on it."

Duke glanced at Nathan, "You gonna be okay hiking back?"

Nathan shrugged, "Should be."

Duke rolled his eyes, "Try to remember you've been shot through the shoulder. And don't even think about bleeding out. I am not lugging your unconscious ass through the woods."

Nathan smirked, enjoying the familiarity of his good-natured teasing.

"Audrey!" Vince called from the edge of the trees.

She nodded, all business and looked at her compatriots. James looked like he'd been dragged out of a lake, Duke's face was cut and bruised, as was Nathan's. Miles to go, she thought. "Let's go."

As they began walking towards Vince, already moving into a single file line for hiking on the path, James, from his spot in the middle of the group, murmured, "'Once more unto the breach, dear friends.'"

Duke groaned and threw his hands up. "Dude, didn't anyone ever tell you quoting Shakespeare is a sure fire jinx that someone's gonna die?"

Audrey smiled weakly at her friend's attempt at humor. She suddenly had an overwhelming sense of foreboding that he might have been right.


	16. try to convince me that I'm not drowning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the killer of the Colorado Kid is revealed, Audrey deals with her stress, and Nathan gets stiches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler Warning: Spoilers for all of Haven up through and including the end of S3, although this story does not follow exactly the storyline of S3. I've borrowed some episode dialogue where appropriate. One may also notice references to BSG, Doctor Who, Farscape, the Time Traveler's Wife, Buffy, The West Wing, various Nora Roberts novels, and anything else that's influenced me. The title of this piece comes from a line from John Green's book The Fault In Our Stars. Chapter title is from "Lost" by Within Temptation.
> 
> Acknowledgements: Haven belongs to SyFy, Sam and Jim, etc. Thanks to all the Havenites on Tumblr and Twitter who continue to give me such great support, as well as all the reviewers here and at AO3. Huge shout out to my dear LadyCallie for betaing everything I've written for the last 13 years - she has been instrumental in shaping and guiding this piece. her encouragement, fine editting and storytelling skills, and support have been invaluable. Also huge thanks to my MamaK, the venerable rutsky, who encouraged me to write this and who has been reading this piece throughout it's development. Finally, HUGE thanks to Kitty Chandler and Adsartha Hammett, whose"Murderboards" blog has been instrumental in my research of this piece. Seriously, if you've never been there, their in depth analyses of the characters, locations, mythology, and episodes of Haven are genius. Also, they get 100% credit for the phrase "Fucking Haven."

Vince’s helicopter sat in a clearing a half a mile away from where Duke and Nathan had beached their speedboat. The copter was a sleek cobalt with white propellers, and looked to be well maintained.

Duke let out a long, slow whistle. “Nice ride, Vince. Didn’t realize small town newspapers were this profitable.”

“I invest well,” he replied dryly. “And Dave and I employ a fella from Derry; he arranges charters, flies aerial tours for summer people. The old girl pays for herself.”

Audrey visually inspected the craft, squinting against the rain. "Does Dave fly too?”

Vince nodded, “He has his private license.“ Like a proud paper, he ran a hand over the body. “This beauty is one hundred and forty two feet long, can get up to 137 knots, hold five passengers plus a pilot, and is one of my prized possessions. They day we bought her was one of the happiest of my life.”

Duke barely suppressed the impulse to roll his eyes. “Yeah, this is touching and all, but it’s really fucking wet out here. We don’t want to buy...her, alright, we just need to get back to town.” He shivered in the rain and cold. “And dry. I don’t suppose that thing is bigger on the inside and you’ve got a couple of towels and, I dunno, maybe some electric blankets and a clothes dryer?”

Vince shook his head as he opened one of the passenger doors. "'Fraid not. But I'll turn the heat up.”

"Where are you gonna land?" Nathan asked.

"Potters Field," Vince replied. "My guy in Derry's gonna come get her tomorrow." He thwapped a hand against the body of the chopper. “Everybody in."

They piled into the copter, Audrey then Nathan then James then Duke. The seats were a buttery tan leather, and while not spacious to the point that any of them could stand fully upright, they weren't sitting on top of each other either. There were two rows of seats; one like a love-seat at the back of the craft, that faced forward, and two armchair-like seats that were behind the pilot and co-pilot, facing away from the front windscreen. It was designed for all passengers to look at each other, and out the spacious windows for maximum sightseeing.

James spied something none of the rest had noticed as they climbed into the chopper. He cleared his throat and nodded towards the front passenger seat as Vince climbed in. "Did uh, that come extra or is it custom?"

Audrey leaned forward and craned her neck. "Ohmigod!"

Dave was bundled in the front seat, unconscious. His arms and legs were bound by rope, his mouth was covered by duct tape.  There was an angry bruise on his temple. His head rested against the side window as though he was asleep.

"What the hell did you do?" Audrey exclaimed.

"I couldn't risk him interfering," Vince replied as he did his pre-flight checks. He had the decency to sound sheepish. "So I put a tranquilizer in his tea." He frowned, paused. "Or was it two tranquilizers?"

Duke's eyebrows shot up. "So where'd the bruise come from?" he inquired.

"He put up a fight."

"You think?"

Nathan arched a brow, making a mental to never accept a drink from the Teagues ever again. "And he's tied up because...?"

"In case he woke up," Vince replied simply. He began pressing buttons, flicking switches. "Headphones on, please."

"That's some fun family traditions you got there," Duke observed from his seat behind Vince as he selected a pair of headphones designed for noise protection, and so they could communicate. He couldn't help but wonder if they'd just accepted a ride from the captain of the voyage of the damned.

Audrey was appalled. She felt anger, betrayal, pity, shock. The emotions were so strong she was nearly overwhelmed by them. It felt as though she was drowning, changing, becoming like Arla, a walking oozing thing. As the headache intensified, the throbbing ache increasing to a stabbing pain -- a delightful pairing with being wet and cold and miserable -- she dimly wondered if all the emotions she was feeling were all hers.

"Vincent, you untie him this minute!" The words came out of her mouth nearly unbidden, like someone else was controlling her. _Well, that answers that question,_  she thought, heat rising to her cheeks. She wondered if she'd ever before had to deal with the other personalities bleeding through. With a heavy sigh, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

Tired, she was so tired. Tired of fighting, tired of pain, tired of blood. Tired of not knowing who she was, of fighting the ghosts of who she had been, of who people expected her to be. Audrey Parker -- neither of the women who’d borne that name -- had ever been a quitter, but sodden and petite, her blonde hair plastered to her head, Haven’s Audrey Parker just wanted to curl into a ball and weep, and sleep.  _Sleep._  It was a Siren’s call.  _Sleep, give in. Go back in the Barn and rest. Forget about all this, these people. End it. Stop. Sleep._

Vince's eyes were wide with shock and horror; he'd recognized immediately the voice that commanded him to free his brother. His eyes darted from her, to Nathan's, to Duke's. James just seemed generally uneasy and in his own head, processing how very drastically his life had changed.

"She's been doing that," Duke murmured, of Audrey.

Vince’s eyes snapped back to Audrey. Her face was flushed, but somehow pale. She looked as though she’d been dragged off the bottom of the ocean. She looked exhausted.

"Let him go," Nathan ordered.

His eyes fixed on Audrey, Vince nodded, haltingly, and reached over to take the tape off his brother's mouth. He pulled a Swiss Army knife from his pocket and cut the ropes that bound Dave's hands. The feet were more difficult to undo, but Vince managed, and hoped he didn't get a boot in the ass for his efforts.

"There's a full first aid kit under your row of seats," he said to Nathan. "Let her work on your shoulder."

Nathan nodded wordlessly. He handed a pair of headphones to Audrey as the helicopter's blades began to whirl. He watched as she took them from him, on a kind of autopilot. As she put what he’d handed her on her head, her eyes were glazed and seemed to be fixed on something he couldn't see. Sarah had gone back under, he thought, but Audrey hadn't quite returned.

So as not to draw attention to it, as the helicopter rose into the air, he laid a hand over hers. She was trembling, shivering. Gently, he ran his fingers over her damp, chilled skin. Soothing, gently soothing. They could hardly have a private conversation, to talk about what she was going through, what they’d both been through since waking that morning. But they could have this, this touch, this intimacy. This anchor, to each other, to this place and this time.

"How about that heat?" he asked easily, voice casual as it carried through the headset to Vince.

"Copy," their pilot replied, flicking some more switches.

"If there's some aspirin in that kit, you should probably take some," he remarked to Audrey, his voice calm and even, so as not to cause alarm. He squeezed her hand tightly, gave it a gentle tug. "Might help the headache." He could see it in her eyes, on her face, in the set of her brow. She was in pain.

Duke's head snapped up. He’d been trying to give them some privacy. It was damned weird that their only views were staring at each other, or out the window.  _Flashback?_  he mouthed.

Nathan nodded curtly, then returned his attention to Audrey. Gently, he moved the headset's microphone up and away from her mouth, then did the same with his. It'd be hard to hear each other over the din of the aircraft, but that was fine. He was trying to afford them as much privacy as possible. James was staring out the window, lost in his own thoughts, and Duke was playing a game on his phone. It was as much privacy as they could get.

Laying the tip of his finger under her chin, Nathan drew Audrey’s face up, met her eyes with his. He waited for them to focus, waited for her to really see him. It took a few seconds, but he could tell when she was back from wherever she'd gone, whenever she'd gone in her mind, where he could not follow. All he could do, he'd learned, was wait. She always came back.

_Same goes for if and when she goes into that Barn for twenty seven years,_  his father's voice interjected.

Mentally, Nathan swatted him away.  _Not now._

"Audrey." He said her name as loud as he dared, hoping she could hear him -- really hear him.

Her eyes snapped to alertness in a panicked, desperate way, like someone waking from a nightmare. "Your shoulder!" she cried, and began fumbling under the seat for the first aid kit she vaguely recalled Vince talking about. She yanked it out with fumbling hands, set it in her lap and tried to work the latch with trembling fingers.

He placed his hands over hers, stilling them. When she looked up at him, confused and lost, he laid one hand alongside her cheek, cupping it. Gently, tenderly, he stroked her face with his thumb.

"Look at me," he said slowly. She obeyed, and he felt his heart crack when he saw that her eyes were full of tears. "It's okay," he promised, leaning forward and brushing his lips over hers. "I love you." He said it against her mouth, sent the words into her, imagined them like water, like medicine.

"It's too much," she replied, a small sob escaping her lips. She felt like she'd been broken once too many times. She wasn't sure how often they could expect her to put herself back together without the cracks showing.

"I know," he replied, moving his hand to massage the base of her neck. He drew her against his chest, pressed his lips to the crown of her head. He eased her out of her wet coat, dropping it in a sodden heap on the carpet between them and Duke and James, and began rubbing a hand up and down her back. "I've got you," he promised against her temple, not sure if she could hear him with the headphones and the noise. He felt her tremble, felt the silent sobs. Wordlessly, he rocked her, trying to give her what solace he could.

After a few minutes, he felt her go slack. She'd fallen asleep. Gently, and with no thought to his wound, he eased her down, laying her out across the seats. Hopefully she would sleep until they landed, and the sleep would help. He brushed a wet lock of hair from her face, then gingerly removed the first aid kit from under her clenched fingers.

When he'd wrested it free, he used it to clunk Duke not-so-lightly on the knee. In his headphones, he heard Duke curse.

"You're stitching me up," Nathan said, setting his mic back in place.

Duke rolled his eyes, "And why the hell can't...oh." He looked up from his phone and his eyes fell on Audrey as she slept fitfully, her brow creased, her lips pursed. With a sigh, he held his hand out for the kit. "Alright, Mary. Off with your shirt." He chuckled, "I suppose I'm supposed to make this not too gnarly, right? Wanna look pretty for your girl?"

"She doesn't seem to care, but try to keep me from looking like Frankenstein, alright?" Nathan wedged himself between the two seats to give Duke better access to the entry wound.

Duke opened a bottle of peroxide, put some on a bandage. "Guess you're lucky you can't feel this, cuz it hurts like a motherfucker."

"You're such a comfort," Nathan muttered, and looked away, towards his sleeping lover.

Duke was unable to keep himself from wincing sympathetically as he cleaned and stitched the wound. That Vince had a military-grade field med kit in his chopper made him uneasy -- however useful it was currently notwithstanding. After he'd  taped a clean bandage to the front, Nathan shifted and Duke repeated the process on the exit wound. The entire procedure was over inside ten minutes.

"You'll live," Duke remarked when he was finished. He shoved the refuse back into the kit and kicked it under his seat as Nathan moved back across the cabin and found a few square inches of real estate on the couch to sit.

"I think Rip Van Winkle is waking up," James remarked.

Sure enough, Dave was beginning to stir. He let out a groan and began to sit upright. His head pounded from whatever he'd been clobbered with -- an urn, he remembered. He'd felt the tranquilizer’s effects and had tried to fight his duplicitous older brother.   He'd swung at Vince a few times before the elder Teague had put an end to the matter with blunt force trauma.

"You son of a bitch!" Dave hollered.

Vince barely gave him a passing glance, merely smiled sardonically and shook his head. He pointed to his headphones.

Dave cursed and put on a pair. "You son of a bitch!"

"Now now," Vince scolded darkly. "We both know you were always Mother's favorite."

"Maybe because I don't go around hitting people with antiques!" He huffed. "So what happened, did you make that poor girl go in the Barn again?"

Nathan, James, and Duke exchanged curious, suspicious looks.

Vince cleared his throat. "We've got company." He jerked his head backwards to indicate their passengers, then fixed his eyes on where he was going, on maneuvering them through the increasingly poor weather.

Dave peered around, his eyes growing wide. The entire assembled company caught him by surprise. That Audrey was there, sleeping like the dead, Crocker and Garland's son, and... "James?"

The man in question gave a small, tired wave. "Hiya Dave."

Dave gave his brother a look that was almost gloating, then returned his attention to the Colorado Kid. "Never thought I'd see you again."

"Same goes," James replied. "You got old, man."

Duke snorted while Dave let out a guffaw. "Yeah, I suppose almost thirty years will do that to a person." He gave James a once over. "You look the same."

"Yeah, I suppose getting resurrected by a magical Barn will do that to a person," James retorted.

"The Barn?" Dave said dramatically. "That's where you were?"

Something in the man's voice told Nathan that James's whereabouts weren't a surprise to Dave.

Dave turned to his brother with a scowl. "Did you finally realize I was right, you bastard, that we can't keep using that poor girl as a quick fix to our problems?" He turned to the passengers. "You all know he runs the Guard, don't you?"

"Yeah, we got that," Nathan replied.

"You're late with the scoop," Duke remarked. "That information might've been helpful _two months ago_."

Dave shrugged and turned primly to look out the front windshield. "That's not how I roll."

In his pocket, Nathan's phone vibrated. He checked the display. "It's Dwight," he said to no one in particular. While on the trail, he had called the Cleaner, asked him to do some recon from outside the station as to Arla's set up, and to round up any patrol cars that were still out in the field. "Arla's got seven officers and Laverne tied up in the bullpen. Dwight was able to round up six patrol cars, and they’ve arranged a perimeter outside, closed off a three block radius around the station.”

Dave’s eyes bulged. “Arla?”

“You’ve missed a few things,” Vince muttered, the chopper shaking as he navigated them through a wind shear. “She’s the Bolt Gun Killer.”

“She’s a skinwalker,” James said, voice coarse.

Dave ran a hand over his thinning hair. “Christ Jesus.” He looked at James with genuine sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

James nodded, but said nothing, choosing instead to look out the window as the Maine coastline flew by below them.

Dave’s eyes darted to Vince. “Do you believe me now? Are you willing to admit that I’m right, and I’ve been right this whole time?” He jerked a thumb behind him. “These kids have managed to do more this time around than we ever did. And you know why? Because they don’t think they know better than everyone, don’t think their way is the only way.” He spat the words at his brother, full of anger and loathing.

“Did he just call us ‘kids’?” Duke murmured.

Nathan watched the brothers with suspicion. “Yup.”

“Goddammit, Dave,” Vince snapped. “Everything I did, I did with this town’s best interests in mind. I did what I thought was best!”

James’s eyes snapped to the brother’s Teague. His face was pale. “What did you just say?” he asked, voice quaking slightly.

Duke frowned, thinking it an odd question for James to ask. “He said ‘I did what I thought was best...’”

_James stares out at Haven from where he stands at King’s Point, on Hammock Beach. He doesn’t know it will be renamed Colorado Kid Beach in memory of him. The honorific is bizarre, especially since it doesn’t use his actual name, as though he is some secret to be kept. Perhaps he is. But before any of this happens, he stares back at the red painted buildings of Haven and sips a cup of coffee. He doesn’t know within the hour, seven year old Duke Crocker and his babysitter Lucy Ripley, out on a walk, will come across his body, slumped against an old support beam of the fishing pier that used to stand here._

_Lucy has left Haven, has run to escape her fate -- a decision James supported. How do you say no to your mother when all she wants is to do is live? -- but she receives word that her son is in danger, because of her running, and so she returns. She cannot find Garland, her brother in all but blood. She went by his house but neither he nor Annemarie, nor Annemarie’s boy Nathan are there. She does not know that Gar has taken her advice and has taken Annemarie and the boy to Bangor. She does not know that he has arranged with a friend in the court for Annemarie to divorce Hansen, that Annemarie has agreed to marry Garland and so they shall be married in the courthouse by a Justice of the Peace. She does not know that after he signs the marriage certificate he will sign adoption papers and Nathan will legally be his son, and any ties to Hansen will be sealed in memories, and in a file buried in the records room of the Bangor Federal Courthouse. They will return to Haven after a celebratory lunch, and Garland will spend his wedding night investigating James's murder. But Lucy knows none of this, only knows that he is gone, and so she goes to the Crocker House, knowing Simon is gone, following the trail she left for him. She finds Duke, the sweet boy who has already suffered too much and will suffer more in his life. She grabs his hand and moves as swiftly as his short legs will carry him, they run and run and eventually end up on Hammock Beach, where they will find James dead._

_But James knows none of this yet. Only knows he has to get back in the rental car soon, swing by the hotel and pick up Arla before driving to Bangor to drop the car off at the rental company and fly home to Denver. His buddy George has convinced their boss at Mountain Outlook Advertising to give him another chance, has explained that there were extenuating circumstances and a family emergency, because this is what James has told him. James spun a lie about hiring a private investigator to find his birth mother and how the shock of finally finding her made him immediately run off and see her. The truth, on all sides, is so much more bizarre but George buys it and sells the lie and James is to report to work on Monday at 9 am._

_He sighs, thinking about the month he’s spent in Haven, what he’s found, what he’s seen. It’s all too un-fucking-believable for words, and yet he lived through it. He found his birth mother, sort of. He still knows nothing of his father, but that’s fine. Paul Cogan has been an excellent father, as June as been a wonderful mother. Sarah’s wish for him has been fulfilled, not that she’s around for him to tell her._

_He finishes his coffee, the wrapper of a muffin from Rosemary’s wadded in his pocket, next to the carton of Winstons he carries for emergencies. He’s fairly surprised there are so many of them left, after what he’s seen here. He checks his watch, knows he needs to go. In his mind, he bids farewell to the town of his birth, to the father who probably lives here but has no idea he exists, to the craziness. He bids farewell to Sarah, his mother who is, for all intents and purposes, dead. He bids farewell to the Troubles. He's going to leave this place and go where they cannot touch him. He doesn't know that his wife is Troubled, or that Sarah found the Cogans in the first place because they are part of an Underground Railroad for Troubled people. He thinks he has closure. He and Arla can go back to Nederland, she will get healthy, and then maybe they can work on having that baby she’s been begging for._

_He hears the gravel crunch behind him and turns. He is surprised at who he sees. “Didn’t think I’d see you again.”_

_The man shrugs. “Was driving by, saw you standing here. Thought I’d say a proper goodbye.”_

_James nods and reaches out to shake the man’s hand. He does not see the syringe hidden in the man’s other hand, but he feels the jab of the needle, hears the hiss of the plunger as it enters his carotid artery._

_“I’m sorry,” the man says, catching James as he begins to fall. The poison, which will be gone from his system by the time the medical examiner gets around to the autopsy, paralyzes near-instantaneously. James sees the black maze tattoo appear on the man’s forearm as he lowers him to the ground, rests him up against the wooden pillar._

_“I didn’t want it to be this way but...” He shrugs, remaining in a crouch in front of James. James watches him, unable to speak, or cry out. It is a strange sensation, not being able to feel anything, behind entirely numb in your own body. He wonders if this is what Hansen felt like -- no pun intended -- and thinks, dimly, that this is what Annemarie’s son has in store for himself. He supposes the nice thing about the paralytic is that he cannot feel his heart slowing, cannot feel his breathing becoming labored as his lungs struggle to function. He is aware of spots crossing his vision. He is blacking out._  I’m dying _, he thinks._

_“I have my orders,” his killer continues. “My punishment. My father, he ordered me. The Guard is his to command, and so am I.” He sighs. “My brother doesn’t understand. He convinced me to let Lucy go. He has been punished. And now I have to fix what I’ve done.” he reaches out, closes James’s eyelids. The last thing James sees is that fucking tattoo on his arm. The last thing James hears as his consciousness leaves his body is “I hope you understand, I did what I thought was best.”_

_And then James Cogan, the Colorado Kid, knows no more._

James gasped. His eyes flew wide open and his hands flew to his throat. He felt like he was choking. He took loud, deep breaths, rasping, gasping breaths like a drowning man. His struggles woke Audrey from her nap with a vengeance. She all but flew across the cabin to his aid, fully alert.

“James! James, what is it?” Her hands fumbled at his, checking him for wounds or injuries.

“Did he get shot?” Nathan asked, knowing that adrenaline could stave off the effects of being wounded temporarily.

“I don’t see any blood,” Duke said, joining in.

James stared at the back of Vince’s head, panting as though he'd just run a marathon. “It was you!” He took a ragged deep breath, "It was Vince!"

“It was me what?” Vince asked mildly, not turning around.

Dave sighed and wearily rubbed his forehead.

“You killed me!"

Audrey and Nathan immediately drew their weapons and pointed them at Vince. Duke drew his and pointed it at Dave, just in case.

“You don’t need to point that at me,” he said haughtily. “ _I_  didn’t kill him.”

“But you knew Vince did?” Audrey cried. She’d known for a while that they’d been lying to her, but she never could have imagined how deep, how hurtful, the lies truly were. Instinctively, she nudged James out of his seat behind Dave and sent him to the far side of the aircraft, next to his father.

“That’s accessory to murder, Dave,” Nathan said, venom dripping from his voice.

“I didn’t find out until after!” Dave said. "And technically it's not murder since he's not dead anymore."

"Don't make me shoot you for stupidity," Duke warned, voice low and deadly.

Audrey wanted to hug him for that, for bringing a bit of levity, whether he meant to or not, to an awful situation. She glared at Vince, who by now was continually shifting attention from his dials and the windscreen to the lot of them in back. “Tell me why,” Audrey demanded, shifting so that she was in his peripheral vision.

Vince sighed, “Lucy knew I was in the Guard. She knew we wanted her to go into the Barn. She didn’t want to go in.”

“Tell us something we don’t know,” Duke demanded.

“Lucy convinced you to let her run, didn’t she?” Nathan asked, piecing things together.

Vince nodded, his eyes fixed out the windshield.

“We both did,” Dave added insistently. “I didn't want her to go into the Barn.” He looked Audrey in the eye. “I didn't want Sarah to go in, I don't want you to go in. I think it’s terrible that we’ve been using you as a band aid. I wanted it to stop!” He looked away. “I thought we’d done it. I thought we’d changed the cycle. Instead, I got Sarah’s son killed.” And he had carried that shame ever since, that he had failed the woman he loved. A woman he and his brother both had loved. When Lucy had shown up in Haven, he’d been surprised that he didn’t feel the same way about her as he’d felt about Sarah. She was a different person when she’d returned. Vince, however, had been as infatuated with her as he’d been in 1955. More so. And Dave had manipulated his feelings to get what he wanted. It was something the Teagues did well.

“Our father ran the Guard,” Vince told them.

“Aha!” Duke wagged a finger in Vince’s direction. “I wondered if the title was inherited!”

Audrey flicked his ear, annoyed, and he yelped. When Vince glanced over his shoulder at the commotion, she gestured at him with her weapon to continue.

“When he found out what I’d done -- what we’d done...”

“He beat the hell out of me,” Dave interjected. “Put me in a coma for two weeks. By the time I woke up, James was buried -- or so I thought -- the Barn was gone, and Garland had pinned the murder on Max Hansen.” He nodded at Nathan. “I remember what he did to your mother, what he almost did to you. Was no shame in him getting sent up the river.”

“But Hansen didn’t kill me!” James exploded. “Your brother did, and you knew.”

“And Hansen ran,” Duke added. “He didn’t do time for the murder. Not that one, anyway,” he said with an apologetic look at Nathan.

“Hansen ran on our father’s orders,” Vince said. “To deflect any suspicion off of me.” He tapped a gauge on his dashboard. “My orders were kill James to get Lucy back to Haven, or our father would kill me, and then kill James himself.” He glanced over his shoulder at James. “You were going to die either way.”

“Well that makes me feel so much better,” James retorted. “Thanks for being a pal and doing it yourself. Helps it saved your own skin that way.”

“You’ve been lying to me this whole time,” Audrey said, aghast. “From the moment I came to town, from the moment you told me about the Colorado Kid...you’ve been manipulating me, lying to me. Both of you!” Her voice rose as she grew increasingly agitated. "And don't you dare say its because you were doing what you thought was best. Who put you in charge of making decisions for this town?"

"Sarah," Vince replied.

Audrey sighed, had been afraid that would be his answer. She ran a hand over her still-wet hair. "Sarah made mistakes, and it looks like trusting you was one of them."

While everyone was focused on Audrey, Nathan pulled out his phone and quickly typed  **NEED MY TRUCK FROM MARINA TO POTTERS FIELD. YOU’RE BACKUP. MAKING ARREST. WATCH OUT FOR GUARD.**  He knew Dwight would handle the rest.

“Audrey,” Vince began.

“No.” She cut him off. “You murdered my son. You’ve been lying to me for thirty years!” She took the safety off of her weapon, moved closer to him. “Tell me why I shouldn’t just kill you right now.” She could feel everyone’s eyes on her. She didn’t care.

Vince’s eyes darted about. “Because I’m flying the helicopter?”

“Dave can take over,” she said coldly, and pressed the gun to his temple. She moved in close. “Tell me why I shouldn’t pull the trigger right now.”

“You’re the police," he exclaimed, by way of a reason.

“This time,” she retorted. “Last time I was a writer. Time before that, a nurse. Who the fuck knows who I was before that.” She laughed bitterly. “Your Guard thinks this is all my fault, that I’m doing more bad than good.” She glanced carelessly at the weapon she had pointed at his head. “Maybe they’re right. Maybe I am to blame, maybe all this is my fault and I’m some wicked thing, and every personality the Barn has given me has been a mask.” She put her lips close to his ear. “Maybe I am a killer.”

“You’re -- you’re not,” Vince stammered.

“Says who?” she hissed.

“Says me,” Nathan answered, suddenly sitting where Duke had been. He reached out, gently laid a hand over hers. “You’re not a killer.”

Audrey turned to him, hot tears filling her eyes. “I killed the Rev.”

“You were protecting a little girl,” Duke offered.

She glanced at him, blinking back the tears. “Well, now I’m protecting my son.”

“I don’t need protecting,” James said gently. “Not anymore than anyone else.” He nodded at Vince. “They got what they needed out of me. They killed someone Lucy loved to get her into the Barn.” Gingerly, he eased himself across the cabin, crouched at his mother’s feet. “But you know that trick now. They won’t use it on you again.”

The tears fell from her eyes. “He killed you because of me.” She didn’t even feel Nathan take the gun from her, safety it, pass it to Duke.

James shook his head and took her hand. “No, he killed me because he’s selfish, and a coward, and scared.”

“So many people have died because of me,” she whimpered, feeling defeated.

“You can’t save everyone,” James replied, and Nathan felt a sense of deja vu.

Audrey sighed and sank into the chair. “But I’m supposed to.”

“Maybe,” Duke said gently. “Or maybe you just need to try. Maybe that’s enough.”

Feeling utterly decimated, Audrey leaned forward and cradled her head in her hands and wept. They were trying to absolve her, James most of all, who had been hurt the most because of her. She didn’t feel as though she deserved absolution. As the hours ticked by until she had to go into the Barn or see Haven destroyed, she was beginning more and more to believe she was being punished for some cosmic wrongdoing she’d perpetrated so long ago no one could remember exactly what she’d done.

Feeling helpless against her tears, the five men said nothing. Vince flew, silent and contemplative; Dave occasionally glared at him accusingly, arms crossed at his chest; Duke, Nathan, and James simply bore silent witness to Audrey’s pain, to her struggle. It occurred to them all that perhaps this was their role in the larger scheme of the Troubles -- to be her support, to be there when she needed to laugh, and even harder, to know when to just let her cry.

Eventually, her tears subsided and she sat up, huffing out an embarrassed breath and wiping at her face. She blew her hair out of her face with an exaggerated breath and slumped against the seat. “I bet I look like I ugly cried,” she said with a watery laugh. James patted her knee and returned to his own seat.

“Don’t worry about it,” Duke chided. “Nathan and I look like we’ve been through a meat grinder, so now you fit in." He slanted a glance a James. “Hey kid, maybe we should go a few rounds on you, so you don’t stand out.”

James laughed. “Did you just call me ‘kid?’” He smiled at Audrey. “Lucy and I babysat your ass, Dukers.” He enjoyed throwing Lucy's nickname for the child at the adult.

Duke’s eyes widened and he groaned. “Fucking Haven!”

“Coming in for a landing,” Vince muttered.

Nathan glanced out the window, saw his Bronco and Dwight’s big truck sitting at the edge of the clearing. He nodded satisfactorily to himself. Reaching out across the tiny aisle, he took Audrey’s hand and squeezed it. When she finally brought herself to look at him, he asked “Okay?”

She thought for a moment, then nodded. “Okay.”

The landing was seamless and smooth. The minute they touched down, Dwight darted across the field, ducking the propellers and the downpour, and opened one of the doors. He smiled at Audrey. “Nice to see you.”

“Nice to be seen,” she replied, slipping back into her wet jacket and sliding out of the aircraft. Nathan followed, and murmured something to Dwight. As Audrey watched, Dwight’s face darkened, and took on a look more menacing than she had ever known him capable of. The large man took a two pairs of handcuffs from his pockets, slipped them to Audrey and Nathan. She nodded in understanding.

“Vince or Dave?” Nathan asked quietly.

“Oh, definitely Vince,” she replied, without thinking.

“Mind if I watch?” Dwight asked.

“By all means.” Ignoring the rain, Audrey quickly moved around the chopper, yanked opened the pilot’s door where Vince was finishing his shutdown routine. “Vincent Teague, you are under arrest for the murder of James Cogan.” She reached up and tugged at him, using his surprise to her advantage. He stumbled from his seat to the wet grassy ground and she had cuffs on him before he knew what was happening. “You have the right to remain silent,” she continued, and rattled off the Miranda Warning. On the other side of the chopper, Nathan was doing the same to Dave, citing charges of aiding and abetting, accessory after the fact, and conspiracy. The two old men stammered outrage and shock.

Vince turned to Dwight. “You’re just going to let them do this to me?” he exclaimed as Audrey shoved him towards the Bronco.

Dwight glared at him. “You  _killed_  my little girl.” His eyes flashed murder and rage.

Vince shook his head madly. “They were punished, you know they were punished. Your daughter was never supposed to get hurt!”

“But she did!” Dwight yelled. “She died! Men you sent to get me killed her. You run the Guard, so the responsibility falls on you.” He all but spat the words. “I can’t believe everything I did for you.”

Audrey and Nathan shoved the brothers Teague in the back of the Bronco with orders to shut the hell up. As he climbed into the driver’s seat, Nathan looked at Dwight. “You alright?”

Dwight sighed. “On thing at a time.”

He looked at Duke and James, and gestured to his truck. “Pile in. We’ll be right behind you,” he shouted to Nathan. The wind was starting to pick up. The Chief of Police nodded and shut the truck’s door. Dwight watched as the Bronco drove away from the landing site.

James climbed in, resigned to sitting bitch between Crocker and Dwight. He sighed. “Time to go try and stop my wife from killing any more people.”

“Welcome back to Haven,” Dwight said dryly, and sped away from the clearing.


	17. i woke up this morning to a blood red sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are hostages, lies, and gunshots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler Warning: Spoilers for all of Haven up through and including the end of S3, although this story does not follow exactly the storyline of S3. I've borrowed some episode dialogue where appropriate. One may also notice references to BSG, Doctor Who, Farscape, the Time Traveler's Wife, Buffy, The West Wing, various Nora Roberts novels, and anything else that's influenced me. The title of this piece comes from a line from John Green's book The Fault In Our Stars. Chapter title is from "All I Need" by Mat Kearney.
> 
> Acknowledgements: Haven belongs to SyFy, Sam and Jim, etc. Thanks to all the Havenites on Tumblr and Twitter who continue to give me such great support, as well as all the reviewers here and at AO3. Huge shout out to my dear LadyCallie for betaing everything I've written for the last 13 years - she has been instrumental in shaping and guiding this piece. her encouragement, fine editting and storytelling skills, and support have been invaluable. Also huge thanks to my MamaK, the venerable rutsky, who encouraged me to write this and who has been reading this piece throughout it's development. Finally, HUGE thanks to Kitty Chandler and Adsartha Hammett, whose"Murderboards" blog has been instrumental in my research of this piece. Seriously, if you've never been there, their in depth analyses of the characters, locations, mythology, and episodes of Haven are genius. Also, they get 100% credit for the phrase "Fucking Haven."

The drive through the pouring rain was treacherous at best. The Bronco's wipers worked furiously to keep up with the pounding rain, and all of Nathan's concentration was on getting them to the station in one piece, and on time. His single-minded focus showed in the set of his jaw, the steely determination in his eyes. His hands fisted tightly on the steering wheel as he maneuvered them through the streets of Haven. 

There was a deathly silence in the car. Audrey could feel Vince and Dave's eyes boring into the back of her skull. The rain outside pounded on the cab of the truck, the sound of water striking metal violent and unnerving. It felt like they were enclosed, trapped, suffocating, drowning. She shivered in her wet coat and punched up the truck's heat. The sky was dark and heavy, and she could feel gusts of wind tug at Nathan's car, jerking them, tempting it to go off the road.

"Wonder if Marion and Conrad are having a row," Dave thought aloud. 

"Hell of an argument," Vince replied. "If it's lasted all morning. It's getting worse."

"It's a nor'easter," Nathan muttered. "Now shut up."

_The sky is falling,_  Audrey thought as she stared out the windshield at the wall of rain. Howard had told her the sky would fall until she either went into the Barn stopped the Troubles. She had almost nine hours left to complete her task, and her only hope of doing that was currently holding her police station hostage. Above the clouds, the Hunter Meteor storm fell. One rotation of the Earth, and then the meteors would gone and so would she, unless...

She sighed as wind rocked the car, and supposed a hurricane was better than the meteors  _actually_  falling onto the town.

"You can't arrest us," Vince said haughtily. "You don't have a victim."

Audrey whirled around in her seat and glared at him. "Okay, since you're determined to ignore your right to remain silent: no victims?" She began ticking them off on her fingers. "James, Lucy, me." She took a deep breath. "Arla. James's death triggered her Trouble."

"You can't blame that on us!" Vince exclaimed. "That young woman was always unstable."

"And her husband getting murdered sent her over the edge!" Audrey shot back. "So let's add her victims to your list, shall we? Cause and effect, Vince." She cut him off before he could say anything. "You killing James triggered her Trouble, which triggered a thirty year murder spree. So, her victims: Grady, Erin, Roslyn Toomey, Noelle, Tommy Bowen, Claire Callahan, Nathan. Everyone she killed prior to coming back to Haven; the dozens of bodies from the cannery we haven't identified yet -- all their blood is on your hands.  _Both_  of you!" She shot a vicious look at Dave. "You knew, and you kept your secrets, and dozens of people were brutally murdered; skinned like animals, burned beyond recognition, and buried in shallow graves like garbage." She wiped a tear from her cheek. "Their blood is on  _your_  hands."

Vince and Dave exchanged nervous glances.

"You don't have a case," Vince stammered. "You don't have a confession, and your witness is the victim." He smugly folded his arms across his chest. "How do you intend to prosecute?"

"Duke," Nathan said easily, not taking his eyes off the road. "He was working with Claire, on hypno-regression therapy." The story flowed like water, inspired by the work he knew Audrey had done with Claire. He waited for the guilt at subverting the law, falsifying evidence, and felt nothing. "It's in her records what he remembered. He was out with Lucy, they witnessed the whole thing. He repressed it and she disappeared before she could make a statement." 

"What about James?" Dave asked. "He's alive." 

Audrey shrugged carelessly. "Legally, he's dead. And he hasn't aged. How do you suggest we present him as the person you killed?" 

"You're not the only ones with contacts," Nathan told them. "By the end of the day I can get him a new identity that will pass an FBI background check."

Audrey nodded. "He can and  _will_. So, I'd advise you to take advantage of your right to remain silent and  _shut the hell up_." Without waiting for any additional comments from the brothers, she turned back around in her seat. She shot Nathan a sideways glance and saw his lips twitching.

"What?" she asked in a low voice, amused that he was amused and trying to hide it. 

He shrugged and shook his head. "Nothing."

She slapped him lightly on the arm. "No, tell me."

He shot her a quick, amused glance before returning to staring with great concentration at the road before them. "'You have the right to remain silent and shut the hell up.'" He grinned. "Not bad."

She smiled and leaned her head back against the seat, letting the small moment of humor wash away some of the pain of the day, while the Bronco's vents blasted heat in her face in an attempt to get warm and dry. It was futile, really, she thought, since in moments they'd be getting back out into the rain and cold. The rain had increased since they'd landed, she realized. 

_The sky will fall faster and faster._  Howard's voice in her head; a warning.

Audrey opened her eyes and looked at the analog clock in the truck's dash.

"Fifteen minutes," she murmured.

"Be there in two," Nathan replied and squinted against the driving rain. He looked quickly in his rearview mirror and saw Dwight's headlights flash against the wall of water that surrounded them. With a flick of a switch, he turned on the Bronco's police siren.

Audrey nodded, took a deep breath, then checked the number of rounds left in her weapon. When she was finished, she checked Nathan's, and made a mental note to grab a few spare clips from the kit in Nathan's trunk when they stopped.

Nathan cut the sirens sixty seconds later as they passed through the perimeter, his officers waving the familiar blue Bronco through. He motioned behind him with his thumb and gave a nod, indicating Dwight and his passengers should be passed through as well. As he pulled to a stop in front of the station, he glanced at Audrey. "Ready?"

She took a deep breath, nodded, "Let's go."

They jumped out of the truck, all action, pulling the Teagues out after them. Out in the driving wet and gusting wind, the brothers instantly forgot Audrey's mandate to shut the hell up.

"You can't leave us out here like this!" Dave exclaimed, sputtering as the rain hit his face and coated his glasses.

"This is cruel and unusual punishment," Vince added.

Nathan glared at them, "I'm not leaving you unsecured and unsupervised." 

"But we're cuffed!" Vince insisted.

"Like that could stop you for long." Nathan shoved them at Dwight. "Put them somewhere they can’t hurt themselves or anyone else."

"Gladly," Dwight replied, scruffing the men by their jackets and maneuvering them away.

Nathan turned to one of his officers. "Gimme the story, Gunny."

Gunther Mack, mid fifties with salt and pepper hair made dark by rainwater, nodded. "Unsub is inside. Late twenties, blonde, armed and dangerous. She's locked the back door and all windows and has Laverne, Stan, Officers Inman and Kern, and a couple others, bound with zip ties in the bullpen." He nodded to the back if an open ambulance, where an officer sat getting his head bandaged. 

"Unsub fired a warning shot when we began negotiations, and Officer Foley got grazed. Scalp lac." He folded his arms across his chest, huddling against the driving rain. "Forgive my language, Chief, but this bitch is batshit nuts. She demanded Detective Parker bring her husband." Gunny blushed. "The Unsub's, that is, not Parker's." 

Nathan nodded and waved it away.

Gunny lowered his voice, "Chief, she says she's the Colorado Kid's wife. She's off her rocker. She'd have to have been some kind of child bride, and besides -- he's dead!"

Nathan nodded, pointed to where Audrey was fitting James with a bulletproof vest at the boot of the Bronco. "That's her actual husband. Unsub has a history of psychosis." Sometimes the best lies were rooted in truth. "Parker and I will go in with him. Grab Hagen and McBride, have them take Duke and Dwight to the back door. We'll get the hostages out that way."

At Duke and Dwight's names, Gunny frowned.

"Special circumstances,” he said by way of explanation, and then walked away. He approached his truck and Duke handed him a vest. 

"You and Dwight are on evac with two of my officers," Nathan told him, strapping on the Kevlar. He took the spare clips from Audrey and pocketing them. "Back door. Dwight's gotten in that way before, and I figured you'd appreciate permission to B&E a police station."

Duke grinned sardonically. "Why Chief Wuornos, I am but a law abiding citizen. I know not of what you speak."

Nathan rolled his eyes.

"Good luck," Duke wished them with a quick nod of his head; the Family Wuornos, for better or worse, and they were about to go through worse. "No one get dead," he ordered, then moved off to find Dwight.

Audrey looked at James, the question that had been on her lips for hours finally coming out. "James, I never asked -- are you..."

“Troubled?” he finished for her.  

She nodded, embarrassed. 

He glanced at Nathan. “I am, but I didn’t inherit yours.” He chuckled with a bitter ruefulness. “I probably would have realized who you were, if I had.”

Nathan nodded, “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” He frowned. “Wait, if you don’t have my Trouble..”

“I have hers,” James said, looking at Audrey. “I mean, Lucy figured her immunity was a Trouble in and of itself, so that’s what we called it.”

Audrey sighed, “That’s what I was afraid of.” She squeezed his hand. “James, you know what Arla’s going to look like, don’t you?”

Wordlessly, he nodded. A thousand things passed between them without a word, and her heart broke for him. She wondered if this was what being a mother was -- continually having your heart broken when you couldn’t protect your children from harm. 

After giving James one last squeeze of his hand, she held her hand out to Gunny, and he gave her the bullhorn. "Arla! We're here, and we are making our approach." Setting the bullhorn down on the hood of the Bronco, she led her lover and son through the blinding rain and into a hostage crisis.

Audrey slowly pulled open the front door of the station. "Arla?" she called cautiously. "We're coming in. Me, and Nathan, and James."

"How do I know he's with you?" Arla called back, sounding teary and scared.

Audrey glanced at James, and nodded.

"I'm here, baby!" he yelled. "I've come to get you, like I promised I would."

"James, baby?" Arla laughed out his name. "Oh my God, you're here, you're really here!" She took a shuddering, excited breath. "Come in.  _Alone_."

"No," Nathan called. "We need to see the hostages."

"Let us in, Arla," James pleaded. "It'll be okay." The lie tasted bitter and ashen in his mouth.

They heard the sound of the safety being unlocked on Arla's gun. Then she said, "Okay, the three of you, but that's it. Come in,  _slowly_."

"Put your weapons down," James hissed.

Nathan looked at him sharply.

"Not holstered, just, hold them at your side," his son begged. "She's like a caged animal right now. If we go in there with those things aimed at her, she'll spook." He looked at his mother. "Let me talk to her, please."

Audrey looked from her son to her lover. She could see how much Nathan wanted to go in locked and loaded, but she knew James was right. Moreover, he deserved the chance to talk to his wife. She nodded in agreement, and Nathan sighed with resignation. They walked in slowly, the three of them, with James leading the charge, Audrey and Nathan in flanking positions, their guns held at their sides.

The walked into the bullpen, smelling gun smoke and observing the scene. There were splinters and shards of furniture everywhere.  _Arla must have shot a few rounds off to intimidate,_  Audrey realized. The hostages were tied to desk chairs, to each other; some hands and feet, others just hands. All were quiet. Laverne had a nasty black eye; Stan looked like he was in pain. Two officers, Inman and Kern, were shackled to support beams, as Audrey had been when she was kidnapped. Officer Jenkins sat on the floor, one leg out in front of him, a bloody handkerchief wrapped around his calf.

Arla, dark stitching lines, grey, mottled patchwork skin, stolen blonde hair, stood in front of all of them, gun train straight ahead, waiting. When she saw James, she shrieked, a cry of happiness, and ran at him. She launched herself at him, threw her arms and legs around him and clutched at him, weeping with joy. James held her, his heart pounding, and whispered nonsense at her. He kept her back to the squad room so that she could not see Duke and Dwight cut a few officers free and hurry them out, silently. They would find opportunities, he just had to give them to him.

Arla wriggled to be set on her feet and cupped his face with decaying hands. James didn't know if it was really or if he was imagining it, but the sickly sweet smell of decay tickled his nostrils.  _She's already dead on the outside_ , he thought. Behind her, he saw Duke peering around a corner. James smiled at Arla. "Hi baby," he murmured, lowering his lips to hers. Her arms came around him and he forced himself not to think about the clammy feel of her lifeless flesh, of the smell, of his horror at what she had done, at what she had become.

Behind him, Audrey softly cleared her throat. James gently broke the kiss and as Arla hugged him, resting her face on his chest, he saw that the two officers who had been tied to the support pillars were gone.

Audrey walked towards Jenkins, who was pale and sweaty. Arla aimed her gun at her. “Where are you going?”

Audrey regarded her cooly. “He’s hurt. I want to make sure he’s alright.” When Arla did not let her go, Audrey sighed. “Arla, if you want to get out of here, you’re probably not going to want to let a cop bleed out.”

James nuzzled Arla’s hair. “She’s right,” he whispered, his eyes meeting’s Audrey's over his wife’s head. 

Arla’s eyes darted around the room. They all held their breaths until she nodded permission. Audrey and Nathan darted to their colleagues, checking Jenkins, Laverne and Stan.

“Let them go,” Audrey demanded as she re-tied the cloth around Jenkin’s leg after examining the wound.

Arla laughed, a high, hysterical trill. “Why, when they’re such good collateral?”

“We’re better,” Nathan commented, giving Laverne’s hand a reassuring squeeze as he stood. “Me and Audrey.” He walked towards her. “Come on, Arla. Two days ago you told me you were gonna put more holes in me.” He spread his arms wide. “Well, maybe here’s your chance.”

His de facto daughter-in-law giggled and spun, her gun pointed at the ceiling. “Not a bad idea, Wuornos. Not a bad idea at all.”

She waved at her remaining hostages with her gun, not noticing that they had decreased in number. “Alright, run along.” She reached down and pulled a knife out of her boot. With a few quick strides she’d cut the zip ties on her remaining prisoners. Stan, cradling one hand against his chest, helped Jenkins to his feet. 

“Out the back,” Nathan murmured to Laverne as she helped her up.

Arla whirled, “Been sneaking around on me?” She tsked. “Naughty. Lock the doors behind you!” she yelled. “Or I’ll definitely shoot your boss and the blonde bitch!” She waved gleefully as everyone hobbled out, towards Duke and Dwight and safety.

“Baby,” she said casually. “Take their guns.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re dangerous!” she yelled. He must have looked shocked, because she immediately adopted a calm demeanor. “James, please.” She sauntered over to him, took his hands. “You’ve been gone for twenty-seven years.”  She smiled coyly. “Please, just do as I ask and I’ll explain everything.”

James nodded and sighed. He hoped Audrey and Nathan understood that he was doing what he thought was best. He took Audrey’s gun and stuck it in his waistband.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, eyes flat and heavy.

He held his hand out for Nathan’s, looking his father in the eyes. He knew Nathan wouldn’t want to surrender his weapon. He hoped that this man who looked to be his age but was his father would understand that he wouldn’t let Arla hurt them, that he was determined not to let her hurt anyone else. Nathan sighed heavily, and handed his son his service weapon.

James nodded curtly and placed it on a desk just out of Nathan’s reach.

Arla pecked a kiss to James’s cheek. “Thanks baby.” She pulled Audrey’s weapon from his waistband, examined it. The smile on her face when she aimed the service weapon at her mother-in-law wasn’t evil so much as clearly insane. “It’s poetic,” Arla remarked. “If I kill you with your own weapon.”

“You’re not going to hurt her,” Nathan said, his voice deadly quiet.

Arla chuckled and patted his cheek patronizingly. "You keep thinking that.” She shoved the gun in his face. “Now sit down.”

Audrey and Nathan exchanged concerned glances, and did as they were told. 

James sighed, feeling as though they had somehow survived the first battle of a larger war. He kissed the crown of his wife’s skull to distract her. She turned and smiled at him, pleased. He could almost see the woman he’d known, the woman he’d married. If it weren’t for the greying flesh and stitching lines, he might’ve believed it even more. But he knew what he’d seen in the Barn, knew it to be true. She was sick; she had changed. He liked to believe that the woman he’d married wasn’t capable of this, that time and grief and the Troubles, hers in particular, had driven her mad.

“Arla,” he asked gently, playing dumb. “If I’ve been gone for twenty-seven years, why do you look so young?”

She smiled, beatific, loving, but he could see the lie in her eyes even before she spoke. “I stayed young for you, silly.” She pecked his cheek absently, as though she didn’t have his mother and the Chief of Police at gunpoint, and he tried not to shudder as her dead, sewed-on lips brushed his cheek. 

"Do you know why they think I've got the solution to ending the Troubles?" James wrapped an arm around her, drawing her close, like he couldn't bear being away from her.

With Audrey's weapon still trained of her and Nathan, Arla rested her head on James's chest. "Because I told them you did," she giggled, like a naughty child.

He frowned, confused. "Do I?"

She gasped, laughing with delight. "You forgot? That's fantastic!"

"It is?"

"That's all your whore of a mother ever cared about," Arla sneered. "You told me Lucy had figured it out, but you never told me what it was. You really don't remember?"

He shook his head, stunned into silence at how angry, how mad she was.

She clapped gleefully, and turned to Audrey. "It's been all for nothing," she said. "Everything you've done, and he can't give you the answers you need." She got right in Audrey's face. "You lose. I win," Arla whispered viciously.

"We'll see," Audrey replied. 

Arla rolled her eyes and stood. Playfully, she tugged James's arm, and her skin felt like the grave. “Now come on, “ she giggled. “Let’s get outta here.”

He plastered a smile on his face. “What about them?" He inclined his head towards his parents. 

Arla rolled her eyes, scrunched her face up like they were distasteful, bugs. “We need to get away from Her. She killed you! She killed you to end the Troubles, to save her own skin.” Arla giggled maniacally, then, turning on a dime, spat in Audrey’s direction. “She’s no mother.” 

She whirled back to look at James; her eyes, the only part of her that was what he remembered, bright and shining. “But don’t worry.” She levelled her gun, pointed it between Audrey’s eyes. “I won’t let her hurt you again.” 

Nathan tried to put himself between Audrey and Arla’s gun, but James lovingly ran a hand over his wife's wrist, directing it gently away. “She can’t hurt me now,” he said kindly. Swallowing his revulsion, he placed his hands alongside her face, threading his fingers in hair that was hers, but not, and looked into her eyes. He smiled. “I know you did all this for me.” He chuckled. “You always did like grand gestures.”

She nodded eagerly. “I did it for  _us_.” She rubbed her patchwork hands up and down his arms. “I love you.”

Arla’s eyes turned hard and she glared at Audrey. “You don’t know a thing about love, do you, bitch? You only love one thing -- yourself!” She sneered. "And, I suppose, that pathetic puppy dog sitting next to you."

Audrey met her eyes defiantly, silently. 

Arla cocked her head to the side, examining Nathan. "Tell me, puppy, is she worth dying for?"

"Yes," he replied, eyes venomous and fiery.

“Hey,” James said gently, drawing Arla’s attention back to him. He brushed his lips over her dead, stolen ones. “I love you.” He smiled. “You and me, right?”

“You and me,” she replied. She aimed the gun at Audrey, at Nathan, moved it back and forth; she was aiming for their foreheads -- an execution. “Let’s get rid of them, and go.”

“Don’t kill them,” James suggested, keeping his voice even and calm. “There’s no need.”

“She’ll keep hunting us,” Arla insisted. “She always finds us.”

He shook his head. “She has to go into the Barn. It’s the day of the Hunter. Her time is up. We’ll be free of her.” He reached out, tried to lower her weapon hand again. She resisted. “Baby,” he whispered. “Please. Let’s just go.”

“No!” his wife cried. “She killed you! She took you away from me.” Arla gulped back her tears. “She should be punished!”

“I’m about to disappear for twenty seven years,” Audrey drawled. “You don’t think that’s punishment enough?”

“No!” Arla pressed the gun to Audrey’s forehead. Nathan snarled, but Arla ignored him. “Nothing is punishment enough. It’s your fault my Trouble kicked in!” She glanced sharply at James, might’ve blushed if there’d been any blood flow to her face. She hadn't intended to reveal to him what she was, what she'd done.

Sensing his opportunity, James drew her attention back to him, yet again. He kept his voice gentle, loving. “Baby, what happened to you?” 

She sighed, skirted away, ashamed and embarrassed. It was enough to get the gun out of Audrey’s face. “After you died, okay, my Trouble started.” She almost mumbled the words, mushed them together, like she could keep him from hearing them. She gulped. “My skin fell off.”

“How are you like this now?” he asked flatly.

She smiled tearily. “I can live inside the skin of other people.” She said it so casually, like she was sharing a recipe.

“Tell him, Arla,” Audrey ordered, knowing that for all he’d seen in the Barn, hearing it from Arla herself would be a kind of closure, however brutal. “Tell him how many women you murdered to get that skin.”

Arla’s eyes shot daggers at Audrey; she didn’t even attempt to refute it. Even though he had seen everything she’d done, now, seeing her lack of remorse, was a new kind of horror -- it made it real. “You murdered people?” he asked, incredulous, ill.

“Babe, I did it for you!” she insisted, reaching out to cup his cheek.

Her touch was revolting, and he felt sick to his stomach. He backed away from her. “Don’t touch me.”

Cautiously, gingerly, Audrey and Nathan stood, eyes on their son. Nathan leaned over and picked his gun up off the desk.

Tears ran down Arla’s face. The betrayal was palpable in her voice. “I  _waited_  for you! I  _killed_  for you! I killed for  _us_!”

Bile rose in James’s throat. His hands came up almost of their own volition, rested on his head. He felt like everything was spinning. “Oh my god, Arla!” He spun, walked a few steps away from her. Panting, he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Weeping, Arla watched him, watched everything she’d worked for, everything she’d dreamed about, walk away from her. He’d looked at her like she was a monster. Then he couldn't look at her at all. After everything she’d done for him.

Audrey and Nathan stood by, watching. They’d moved without Arla noticing, with Nathan between her and James, and Audrey on the other side of her. Nathan looked at her with satisfaction, like he was vindicated, like he’d won. Audrey’s eyes were tear-filled, and tired, resigned.

Arla looked at her with pure hate.  _Her fault. Herfault. HerfaultHerfaultHerfaultHerfault_. She raised her gun once more, pointing it at Audrey. “You ruined everything!” she cried, stepping closer to Audrey. Her finger twitched in the trigger.

“No!” Nathan and James shouted at once, rushing towards the two women. Nathan raised his weapon defensively. Audrey, unarmed, eyes wide, darted, trying to get out of Arla’s way. It was all happening at once: the gun; Arla, murderous and mad and feeling as though she'd lost everything; Audrey, fighting for her life; Nathan, watching as everything he loved was about to get ripped away from him; James, the once dead man with a serial killing wife and ageless mother, knowing one of them was about to die.

Then, a gunshot echoed throughout the Haven Police Station.


	18. vale adria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Farewell, Audrey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler Warning: Spoilers for all of Haven up through and including the end of S3, although this story does not follow exactly the storyline of S3. I've borrowed some episode dialogue where appropriate. One may also notice references to BSG, Doctor Who, Farscape, the Time Traveler's Wife, Buffy, The West Wing, various Nora Roberts novels, and anything else that's influenced me. The title of this piece comes from a line from John Green's book The Fault In Our Stars. Chapter title is a riff on "Vale Dacem (Farewell Ten)" from the Doctor Who Season 4 Specials Soundtrack. ANy Whovians out there know what "Vale Dacem" is about.
> 
> Acknowledgements: Haven belongs to SyFy, Sam and Jim, etc. Thanks to all the Havenites on Tumblr and Twitter who continue to give me such great support, as well as all the reviewers here and at AO3. Huge shout out to my dear LadyCallie for betaing everything I've written for the last 13 years - she has been instrumental in shaping and guiding this piece. her encouragement, fine editting and storytelling skills, and support have been invaluable. Also huge thanks to my MamaK, the venerable rutsky, who encouraged me to write this and who has been reading this piece throughout it's development. Finally, HUGE thanks to Kitty Chandler and Adsartha Hammett, whose"Murderboards" blog has been instrumental in my research of this piece. Seriously, if you've never been there, their in depth analyses of the characters, locations, mythology, and episodes of Haven are genius. Also, they get 100% credit for the phrase "Fucking Haven."
> 
> Notes: This chapter is an amalgam. I wrote Chapter 17 and it was hella long. I had already written Chapter 18. It was the first thing I ever wrote for "Forever." With Chapter 19 it was supposed to be a stand alone piece, two chapters that were my speculation at what would happen in the finale. Those two chapters spawned the 17 that then came before this. So, anyway, I wrote 17, but it was way too long, so my beta and I figured out what to chop from 17 and add to 18. All this preamble is to say: this is it. The second half of this chapter is everything "Forever" has been working towards in my feverish little brain since Thanksgiving. Enjoy! (reviews are love!)

The smoke was still wafting from the muzzle of the gun when Nathan covered it with his hand - he'd get burned, but what was one more scar? Gently, he took the gun from his son.

James was staring in shock at the crumpled, bleeding, stitched-together body of his wife. He couldn't register that he'd snatched the gun from Nathan, that he'd ended his wife before she could kill his mother.

Audrey cradled Arla, and there were tears in both women's eyes. Audrey looked up, met the eyes of the father, of the son. James's eyes were ravaged, shocked and grief stricken. Nathan's were full of relief.

She held her hand out to her son. "James," she said gently. "Come say goodbye to her. She doesn't have much time." In her arms, Arla was gasping for breath, the air rattling through her body. She made a horrible gurgling noise as she slowly drowned in her own blood. She was already going beyond them, Audrey knew, but James deserved a chance to finally say goodbye

That seemed to shake James from his shock and stupor. He surged forward, dropping to his knees and skidding to a stop in front of his mother and dying wife. Gently, tears falling from his eyes, he took Arla's limp form from Audrey, cradling her close to his chest, rocking her like a baby, smoothing her blood-flecked hair away from her face. He murmured things to her, things his parents couldn't hear.

Nathan moved a few feet away, keeping his family in sight as he conferred with Stan, got the casualty and mortality report. Officers had poured back in at the sound of the gunshot. Stan reported that there were some scrapes and bruises, Jensen had a through and through to the leg and had already been transported to Haven Medical, and Stan was fairly certain his left hand was broken; Arla had slammed the butt of her gun down on it with considerable force. Nathan sent him outside again, to get seen by the medics.

Audrey sat back on her heels, bearing silent witness to her son's pain and grief. She listened to the rain and wind battering the old windows of the police station. It had gotten worse since they'd entered the station. It sounded like hell's freight train was racing by, pummeling everything in its path.

_The sky is going to continue to fall and it'll keep falling, faster and faster, until the town and everyone you love is destroyed._

She heard new footsteps squeaking on the linoleum floor. Dwight and Duke walked up to Nathan, both of them soaked to the skin. They looked down at James and Audrey, at Arla, lying dead in James's arms.

"Oh man," Duke muttered.

Nathan nodded solemnly. He glanced at Dwight. "Vince and Dave?"

"Bound and gagged in the trunk of a squad car," the Cleaner said blandly. "It was the best I could do."

Nathan sighed, "At least they're contained."

Tearing his eyes away from Audrey's widowered son, Duke surveyed the wreckage. Arla had shot off a fair number of rounds into various desks and walls. It was a wonder more people hadn't been hurt. "Hope you've got a good cleaning crew."

"I know a guy," Nathan replied, looking at Dwight apologetically.

"Might be a few days but yeah, I can get this taken care of," Dwight observed. "Nathan, the weather's picking up out there. The wind's gotta be tropical storm force." He looked at the rattling windows. "This place might not be the only thing that needs cleaning up."

Nathan shrugged nonchalantly, "It's a nor'easter." He hoped his words sounded more confident than he felt

"No," Audrey said, walking up to them. "It's not." Her eyes were red rimmed, hollowed by exhaustion

Duke looked to James, who was still curled around the body of his dead wife, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. "How's he doing

Audrey scrubbed a hand over her face. "How do you think?" She looked at Nathan. "He needs to let them take her." There were some EMTs standing on the other side of the squad room, awkwardly shuffling their feet.

"Yeah," he agreed sadly. "I'll talk to him."

Duke put a hand on his chest. "Let Uncle Duke handle it," he said softly. "I know what he's going through." With a remorseful glance at Audrey, he walked slowly towards her son.

She reached out, twining her fingers with Nathan's. The memory of Duke carrying Evie's body back into the station flashed vividly through their minds.

Duke crouched across from James. "You gotta let her go, kid," he said simply.

"What the fuck do you know about it?" James snarled. His eyes were nasty and hollow, full of grief and devoid of life, all at once.

Duke glanced at their surroundings. "A lot. My wife died here. She betrayed me, put people I love in danger, but she was trying to protect me, in her own weird, twisted way." He sighed. "She was a victim of the Troubles, like everyone else." He glanced at Arla's pale, pretty, blood-stained face. "The woman you married is gone."

James hung his head and sighed. "She was gone a long time ago." Gently, he pressed his lips to her forehead, and laid her down on the cold linoleum floor. He sat back on his heels, and the medics rushed over to assess her. He watched them check her vitals, examine her; it was like watching a bad movie, until a shadow passed over him. Looking up, he saw a hand offered. He took it, and Duke helped him to his feet. James nodded once, then walked towards his parents.

"Audrey," Dwight said. "What do you mean this isn't just a nor'easter?"

She sighed, and avoided looking at Nathan. "It's me. It's because I haven't gone into the Barn yet. This is what Vince was trying to prevent." Meeting her son's confused gaze, she explained, "The Guard tried using a little girl to manipulate your father into getting me to go into the Barn, just like Vince had you killed to get Lucy to go in. Their methods may be flawed but this," she gestured towards the windows. "Is what happens if I don't go in. Howard told me I had sixteen hours to figure out how to end the Troubles. If I didn't, Haven would be destroyed.

James hung his head. "I'm sorry. If Lucy and I  _did_  figure something out, I don't remember it any more."

"Arla could have been lying," Duke said, giving James a sympathetic look.

"Maybe," Audrey conceded. "But Howard wasn't." She looked at all the men standing before her, her son, her friend, her lover, the enigma that was Dwight. "The Hunter's here. My time is up."

"No," Nathan stepped forward, gripped her arms. "Your time _isn't_  up yet. You're not going anywhere."

"Nathan," Audrey said gently, her voice thickening with emotion. "We knew this might happen."

Duke leaned over to James, stage whispering, "Your old man has been a little cuckoo for cocoa puffs about your mom going into the Barn. Makes him all kinds of crazy."

"Shut up, Crocker," Nathan hissed.

"Nathan, hun!" Laverne, dependable as the sunrise, phased by nothing, hollered from the dispatch office, where she had returned to immediately after being cleared by the paramedics. "We got a couple'a calls. Four roofs have been ripped clean off in this wind, trees and power lines are coming down all over the place, and parts of the town are starting to get flash floods!"

"See," Audrey insisted. "This is all because of me. Nathan, I told you." Her voice was gentle, calm and rational. "No one else is going to die or get hurt because of me." She shrugged. "I thought we could find a way. We were wrong. Prolonging the inevitable won't work."

She turned to her son, tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry we didn't have more time."

"We never do," he said sadly. "Maybe next time."

She stood on tiptoe to hug him. "Live a good life," she whispered in his ear. "I want that for you more than anything. Have a good life, a life I can't have."

"Doesn't seem like such a good life today," he murmured.

"I know. But it will, eventually. And you will be so happy with it." She gave him a final hard hug. "I know you will." She cupped his cheek with her palm before turning to Dwight.

"Audrey," Nathan implored. "Don't do this."

"Bye, Dwight," she said, ignoring Nathan. She had to be strong. A powerful gust of wind hit the police station, and the building all but shook. From the direction of Audrey's office, they heard glass shatter. She looked at him apologetically. "Sorry about the mess."

"I got it," he replied with a wry smile.

"Audrey." Nathan's voice was plaintive, pleading.

She could not meet his eyes. Instead, she looked to Duke. He was standing a bit apart, eyes downcast, but she knew he was listening to everything she said. She walked up to him, placed a hand gently on his chest. Quietly, for his ears only, she said his name. He lifted his head and met her eyes. He was so many things to her - her landlord, a pain in the ass, reluctant to help sometimes, but reliable, in his way. Devoted, more than he'd ever care to admit. Loving and kind, loyal to those he loved. He had been her friend, sometimes her brother, sometimes he wanted to be more. She'd tried acting on it, but she had already fallen for Nathan. Still, she loved him.

"You have always been so good to me," she told him with a sad smile.

He tried to smile, sniffed against the tears that threatened. "It was easy." He rolled his eyes. "Actually, it wasn't, but..." He grinned. "You know me. I like a challenge."

She tried to laugh, but couldn't. Instead, tears spilled from her eyes. She wanted to lean forward, rest her head on his chest, draw some of his strength from him. "I'm sorry I won't remember you when I come back," she told him. Standing on tiptoe, she threw her arms around him, felt his come around her, clutching her tightly. She kissed his cheek tenderly, then brought her lips alongside his ear and whispered, "Especially Colorado." She would not leave him with tears.

He rested his forehead against hers, breathing her in, hoping that he would remember her. That had been his greatest fear for so long. Not that she would forget him - that was part of the Troubles, part of the cycle; that he could accept. But he'd forgotten Lucy Ripley, utterly, entirely, absolutely. He refused to forget Audrey Parker. He took one last breath of her, tried to remember the feel of her skin against his, and then stepped away.

Audrey turned and Nathan was there, his lips covering hers. Her arms came around his neck as she felt his settle on her waist. The kiss lasted for hours, for milliseconds. When she pulled away, he cradled her face in his hands.

"We have time," he said, smiling a sad smile.

"Not anymore," she choked. "This storm is only getting worse. We're out of time." She had to step away from him. She had to move quickly. Time was running out, her resolve was fading, and she knew he would not let her go without a fight. She pressed her lips to his hastily, using the distraction to pull his gun from its holster and pass it to Duke.

The sound was the only thing that clued him into the theft; she'd been careful not to touch his skin in any way. "Audrey!" Nathan wrenched himself away, the betrayal sharp in his eyes.

"Don't let him follow me, Duke," Audrey ordered, as she moved to put him between her and Nathan. It was cruel, especially after the two men had just started rebuilding their friendship, but her options were few. "Promise me!" she demanded, refusing to meet Nathan's eyes.

Duke, pointing Nathan's own weapon at him, glanced at Audrey. "I promise." He heard Nathan curse and returned his gaze to his friend. "It has to be her choice."

"I love you," Audrey promised, meeting Nathan's eyes for the last time. "I'm sorry."

Then she fled.

Nathan jerked to go after her, but Duke held the gun in him. They glared at each other, at an impasse, for a few seconds. "Dammit Duke, how can you let her go?"

Duke sighed. "Because she asked me to."

He looked at James, who with Dwight, was watching Nathan and Duke's struggle.

"I'm sorry, kid."

James merely shrugged, defeated.

Just then, Stan, drenched, his hand wrapped and in a brace, came running in. He pulled up short when he saw Duke holding Nathan at gunpoint while Dwight and James stood by doing nothing. "Uh, Chief?"

Nathan used the distraction to snatch his gun back from Duke. Duke let out a strangled curse, but made no attempt to get the gun back.

"Everything okay here?" Stan asked warily, his eyes darting from his boss to Duke, and back again.

"Yeah," Nathan snapped, not tearing his eyes away from Duke. "What's up?"

"Uh," the officer began, uneasy. "Audrey just made me give her the keys to my cruiser and took off. Thought you'd want to know."

Dwight muttered a curse Nathan couldn't make out. "Which direction did she drive in?" He demanded of his officer. When Stan didn't answer right away, Nathan hollered, "Where?!"

Stan's eyes widened. "Towards Edgewater Beach!"

Nathan pushed past him and bolted out of the station.

"We should follow him," Dwight said to Duke.

"Why?" he replied tiredly. "To watch more happy fun goodbye dramas?"

Dwight looked sheepish. "No. Because I put Vince and Dave in the trunk of Stan's car."

Duke rolled his eyes. "I hate this town!" With a sigh, he gestured to Dwight. "Let's go, Sasquatch." As they raced out, James with them - where else did he have to go? - Duke pointed back to Stan. "Hold down the fort till we get back!"

Stan, in silence and shock, watched them run out. He looked round the damaged and shot up bullpen, heard Laverne's phone ringing of the hook. "Uh, okay," he said to no one in particular, and then went back to work.

* * *

Audrey squinted against her tears, and against the pounding rain. She couldn't see beyond the hood of the cruiser, and relied on memory and luck to guide her to Edgewater Beach, where Garland had died, where James had been conceived. She needed a large space for the Barn to appear, and she didn't have enough time to get back to Kick Em Jenny Neck. As she navigated around downed tree limbs and power lines, drove by homes that had trees through them, saw more trees that had fallen and crushed the buildings, she knew her time was up. Whatever James and Lucy had found would remain a mystery. Once again, she seemed destined to love and lose, to fail, to go in the Barn and put a temporary end to Haven's Troubles.

Headlights flashed in her rearview mirror and a horn honked incessantly. The light flashed across the wall of rain and Audrey saw the familiar blue Bronco in her mirror.

"Goddamit, Nathan," she cried. "Just let me go." She couldn't let him stop her, she thought. There were too many lives on the line, including his.

She rounded a corner, nearly hydroplaning into the beach parking lot, and a bolt of lightning illuminated the night sky. There it was - the Barn. Large, imposing, her damnation, Haven's salvation - right where she'd wanted it. Audrey leapt out of the car barely after she'd put it in park. She left it running, and raced across the flooded asphalt and onto the beach, her breath sobbing out as she made a mad dash for the Barn.

Behind her, Nathan jumped out of his truck and ran after her, screaming her name, unaware Dwight had pulled into the parking lot beside him.

They piled out of the cars like clowns at the circus, Duke thought. He watched as Audrey ran for the Barn, the building she had summoned to end everyone's suffering; Nathan ran after her, shouting her name. He and Dwight and James had jumped out of Dwight's truck as fast as they could, but did not pursue. Audrey had said goodbye to them. But they could do her the respect of witnessing her sacrifice. Wordlessly, Dwight popped the trunk of the cruiser Audrey had taken, hauled the Teagues out roughly. A single menacing glare silenced any protests, and he forced them to watch what they had wrought.

"Audrey, stop!" Nathan cried. He fired his gun in the air, a warning shot, to get her attention - it was desperation.

The crack of the gun, the crack of thunder, made Audrey skid to a halt a dozen yards from the Barn door. Shocked and broken, she turned and met the eyes of the man she loved, the man she had to leave. They stood, sand and wind and rain between them; pain between them.

The hurricane, Haven's punishment, Audrey's incentive, the damage that was wrought if she did not complete the cycle, raged around them. It truly did seem as though the sky was falling.

The rain lashed at their skin, fine, sharp, icy knives. Audrey felt them slicing a thousand thousand cuts in her skin every second. The wind lashed, a cacophony of freight trains thundering by her ears. Hail began falling from the sky, golf-ball sized pellets of ice and pain. She felt welts rising on her skin as the hail assaulted her.

Even for New England, this storm was fiercer than anything she had experienced, either in her real or transplanted memories. Her world was ending, had to end, was supposed to end and it was raining like it was the end of the world. Despite what the song said, she certainly didn't feel fine. Audrey couldn't control the weather, but whoever she was, the woman whose blonde hair was matted, sopping and plastered to her head and face, was certain that the weather was doing exactly what it was supposed to.

She was bleeding, inside and out. The rain washed away the blood just as quickly as its icy knives cut fresh wounds into her flesh. The sky was dark, ominous and deadly. At the edge of the beach, she saw, stood Dwight, tall and Nordic looking, a gentle giant who detested violence and lies but was rather adept at both, looked resigned as he stood guard over a shackled Vince and Dave Teagues. Haven's historians, who knew so much and shared so little, hardened by the years, the cycles of the Troubles she hadn't been able to stop - not for good - beleaguered and bitter under the weight of the responsibility She had given them. Sarah had made them promise her things, Lucy had insisted they continue what Sarah had them start. Both incarnations had made liars of not only herself, but also of the brothers; powerful, wealthy, disillusioned liars.  _Something else I haven't done right, set right,_  Audrey thought bitterly.

Duke's face, usually so full of arrogance and bravado - the mask of a hurt and scared little boy trying with all his might to fight his fate - was ravaged by grief. Audrey didn't have to look at him. She could feel it, radiating off him in waves. He had been trying to fight her fate, as well as his own, ever since he had discovered the truth about The Hunter.  _Don't run anymore,_  Audrey wanted to tell him. He'd been running from his Trouble, his father and grandfather's legacies, his date with death at the hands of someone with the Guard Tattoo, for so long. He had been a sort of brother to her these last nine months. She would miss him.

James, her son - her's and Nathan's. He was a widower now, with Arla dead by his own hand. Born in 1955 but looked younger than thirty, the child of an ageless woman and a man who felt so much, and nothing at all. He was the child of Haven's protectors, and he was the husband of a woman destroyed by the Troubles, who had in turn destroyed so many lives. Audrey couldn't help but feel as though she had failed Arla, or that Lucy had. Clearly, the woman had been unhinged, but at the end of the day, she was a Troubled person whom Audrey had not been able to help. And because of that, her son had lost the woman he loved. As he was about to lose his mother. Again.

"Audrey."

She looked at Nathan, she looked at the Barn. Here were two things, both of them arguably her destiny. One was determined to take her away, imprison her for her failures and wipe her memory, only to deposit her back in this place in another twenty seven years to try again - she could only keep trying; maybe she was destined to forever try, and fail, to forever love and be loved, and lose and be lost. The other was determined to keep her here, to make her stay. Stay with me, his eyes blue eyes begged, through tears, through desperation and rage, through the storm of failure and grief. As far as she knew he couldn't control the weather either, but she imagined the gale they were currently being lashed by was a fair equivalent to the torment he was feeling, torment she had tried - and failed - to spare him.

Nathan. Her partner. Her friend. Her lover - although that was so recent, so new. This should be such an exciting time for them, as they discovered what it was like to be openly in love, to learn each other's hearts and bodies. Instead of happiness, the love they had built for each other was only causing them grief.

"Nathan, I have to go!" she shouted over the wind and the rain, and felt his hands tighten around hers, anchoring her to the little patch of land on the Maine coast. She wished that she was strong enough to let go of his hands – then he wouldn't feel any of the rain that whipped them.

"No!" he said, angry, viciously so. He was hurting her hands, but she didn't care, didn't flinch or tell him. They were both so full of pain, at this point, what was a little more? "I won't lose you. Not after everything."

"We don't have a choice!" she replied. "This is exactly... " Audrey sighed, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks, mixing with the blood and the rain. "This is exactly what I was trying to prevent."

He looked at the exposed tattoo on the torn and bloody skin of his left arm. "I know, that's why –"

"No," she cut him off. "This. Us. Now. From the minute Duke told me about the Hunter, I knew I had to let you go. Push you away. Make you go away. I thought if I could make you not love me anymore, you wouldn't hurt as much when I left." Even saying it, she felt ashamed, saw the folly in her plan. Pushed him into the arms of another woman who only lied and hurt him, and who was hurt by his deceit of her in return. _'I hurt you to save you' is cliché,_  Parker, she told herself.  _You owe him better. He deserves better than that._  "I wanted better than this, for you," she said, so quietly he had to lean closer to hear her over the storm.

It was like a sucker punch to the gut, one that he could most definitely feel. In one move he dropped her hands and fisted his own in her tangled, wet hair, dragging her almost painfully to him and crushing his lips to hers. He wanted to take and take, give and give.  _Remember me. Remember us. Stay. Don't leave me. Damn you for making me love you. I'll never love anyone else the way I love you._  It was all in the kiss as he savaged her mouth, feeling it's textures, tasting some blood - his or hers, it didn't matter. There was rain streaming off her face and he could smell the salt of her tears.  _She was trying to spare herself as much as me_ , he thought, feeling her pain ripple off of her almost as strongly as he felt her skin.

"There is nothing better than you for me, do you hear me?" He stared into her eyes. When she didn't answer, he shook her a little, still clutching her head. "Parker, do you hear me?"

Gulping back sobs, she nodded.

"I've loved you for...ever. Since I pulled you from that car, longer." He took a deep breath. "'I have always loved you. I always will love you.'" He said it softly, quoting her. "2010. 1955. Audrey, Sarah. It doesn't matter. It's you, Audrey. Whatever your name is, I love you, and damned if I let the brightest thing in my life disappear because of some light show in the sky, because this is how things are 'supposed' to be."

"This is my punishment, don't you see?" She could almost remember, all the other times she had walked into the Barn. With dignity, if not with annoyance, as Sarah; With fear and grief, as she was forced into it, as Lucy; the almost dozen times before that, feeling dozens of other emotions. Only two things were ever the same, she thought. The Hunter Meteor Shower, and regret. Regret that she had failed in her task, that she hadn't been able to stop the Troubles for good. Now she would go into the Barn with another regret – that she would be leaving behind the man she loved, the man she was sure she was destined to be with, if she had succeeded. She would go into the Barn filled with regret at the sorrow she knew her leaving would cause him. "I failed," she whispered.

"You didn't," he insisted. "I did. I couldn't protect you from this. I couldn't stop it."

"You weren't meant to," said a familiar male voice. In front of The Barn stood the man they had known as Agent Howard. In spite of the torrential rain, he looked dry as a bone.

Audrey spun around, clutching Nathan's hand. They stared, gaping at Howard. Behind them, Duke tried to run forward, to get to his friends, but was held in place by some invisible barrier. Nathan and Audrey were on their own.

"It's time to go," Howard said, calmly, blithely, as though he were a father collecting his child from a play date to take her home for supper.

"Fuck that," Nathan swore, murder glinting in his eyes. This man had essentially brought Audrey to him, and now he was taking her away. Nathan had never felt more powerless in his life. Not when Jess left, not when his father had died, not either time he had first realized that he couldn't feel anything. Though he gripped her hand hard enough to turn it bone white, Nathan felt powerless to keep Audrey from slipping away from him.

"Nathan," Audrey whispered, quietly, to keep him from saying anything else. She sniffed back the tears and raised her eyes, almost defiantly, to meet Howard's. "Let me say goodbye to him."

Howard's lips smirked. "Isn't that what you've been doing?"

Audrey had never wanted to tell someone to go fuck themselves as powerfully as she wanted to tell Howard in this moment. She glowered at him and turned back to Nathan. She reached up her hand to cup his soaked and bloody cheek. "Don't mourn for me."  _Fuck that_ , she could almost hear him say. She saw it in his eyes. "I'm serious, Nathan. We knew this was coming. Since we couldn't prevent it, we have to accept it."

He pulled her to him again, pressing her body to his as though he were trying to absorb her into himself. Anything, if it would make her stay. "I'm not sorry," he said in her ear, his voice thick with anger, sorrow, love. "I'll never be sorry."

One hand pressed to the small of his back, the other snaked up to tangle in his wet hair at the nape of his neck. Her nails scratched at his scalp in a way he'd learned he loved to feel, and she'd learned she loved to do. This would be the last time. So many lasts, not enough firsts, so many nevers. "I should be, but I'm not. I'm sorry for hurting you, but I can't be sorry for what's between us. I love you, Nathan."

"I love you," he replied, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes. He wanted to sear the image of himself into her brain, brand her memory with how much he loved her. He knew in that moment he would wait twenty seven years for her, even though he would be almost an old man by then, and she would still be as young and beautiful as she was now.

Audrey stood on tiptoe and brought her lips to his. This kiss was sweet and soft and full of nothing but love. She wanted to leave him not with her tears, or fear, or regret. She wanted to leave him with her love. "Remember me, for the both of us," she murmured, when she finally pulled away. "Remember that I loved you. Twenty seven years, Nathan, and we get to do it all over again." She squeezed his hands as she began to back away from him, towards Howard and The Barn. She felt his hands squeeze hers tightly as she tried to pull away. _Let me go,_  she silently begged. _I don't know how long I'll have the strength to walk away from you._

"Audrey." He said her name like a prayer, a whisper, a plea. His voice was a benediction. "I love you," he said, as her fingers slipped from his, and she mentally tried to wrap his voice, those words, around herself like a quilt, like a cloak, like a second skin. She wasn't a Skinwalker, not that way the Arla had been, but she would carry Nathan's words with her. Turning her back to him, she walked towards Agent Howard.

"Nice to see you again," he murmured as she stepped beside him.

She glared back at him. "Let's just get this over with." She didn't turn around. If she turned around, saw her son, saw Duke, saw Nathan, she would run as Lucy had. Run towards them, away from her fate, away from her failure and her punishment. She knew the Guard was stationed in the trees at the edge of the beach, that they were staying hidden unless she did something stupid. In case she tried to run, like Lucy had. She heard the large, heavy Barn door creak as Howard easily pushed it open for her, as though it were made of paper.

Nathan could still feel her touch on his skin. As she walked away from him, he swore he could still feel her hand in his. Like a phantom limb pain, felt by amputees who insisted they could still feel their missing limbs, he could feel Audrey. Though there were only twenty feet between him and The Barn, it felt as though her walk had taken hours, had taken a second. He had stood for days watching her walk away from him - away from him - and in the blink of an eye she had gone from being by his side, as she'd been since her first day in Haven, to in front of The Barn.

_I love you. Don't go. Stay. Don't leave me. Take me with you._  He sent all those thoughts her way, as though whatever telepathy they'd had in the Barn translated in the real world.

_"Take care of our girl,"_  his father had ordered him. Something else at which he had failed, failed to do for Garland Wournos. Failed, failed failed. He had failed to properly infiltrate the Guard. He had failed in tracking down the Bolt Gun Killer before so many had died. He had failed in stopping the Troubles. He had failed in protecting Audrey, in finding a way to keep her here.

_Audrey._  He watched as Howard opened the door for her.  _Look at me,_  he silently begged. _Please look at me._  He knew she wouldn't. He knew doing so would make her lose her tenuous hold on her nerve. He knew how stubborn she could be, how implacable her will could be. She thought she was doing what was right. That was one of the things he loved about her, her dedication to doing what was right, even when it was hard.

_"I have to do this,"_  she had said. He watched her as she began to step through the doorway.

"Fuck that," he muttered. They hadn't come this far, he hadn't found her only to lose her like this. Before he even registered the movement of his legs, he was running towards her, towards Howard, towards The Barn. He heard Duke call his name, might've even heard James shout Dad! Dimly, he heard feet pounding out of the woods, converging on him through the rain – a warning shot, Kirk's shout, Dwight and James yelling something in return. He registered it peripherally. None of them mattered. The only word in his head was  _Audrey. Audrey, Audrey, Audrey._  Always Audrey.

Flashes of time: Audrey, sitting in a red rental car, the radio blasting a Captain and Tennille song, about to go over a cliff. Audrey pulling a gun on him. _What am I going to do, pull another gun?_  Audrey kissing his cheek.  _You're my first friend._

He continued to run. It felt as though he'd been running for miles.

More flashes of time. Audrey kissing his cheek, holding his hand, sipping his coffee so he didn't burn his mouth. Wait another few minutes. Audrey smiling, running towards him after they freed her from the BGK; the feel of her bare, chilled, skin, her arms around his neck, her breath hot on his cheek, her tears of relief a balm. Audrey rising over him in the dark, gleaming, powerful, a witch of legend who had stolen his heart. She had his heart. She would always have his heart. Whether or not he had been able to feel her, she would always have his heart. Feeling her had been the icing on the cake.

He was so intent on reaching her that he never registered that for the first time since the storm had begun, he could feel the rain and sleet and hail.

She was almost through the door by the time he reached her. He threw a defiant look at Howard and thought that instead of anger in the man's eyes, he saw amusement.

"Audrey!" Nathan grabbed her hand, and she whirled around in shock as she stepped into the Barn. Then there was a sound like all the air being rapidly sucked out of a room. Nathan felt a swirling, tugging sensation. Then he knew nothing but blackness.

Across the grass, as the rain clouds cleared and the Guard dissolved back into the trees - "She went, it's gone," someone muttered. Duke, James and Dwight stared at the empty space before them. Dave and Vince exchanged worried glances after witnessing Nathan's mad dash to the barn.

"That wasn't supposed to happen," Vince hissed at his brother through clenched teeth.

"Are you sure?" Dave muttered back. "I don't think we were ever sure of anything. We only thought we were."

Above them, the night sky, suddenly clear, as though it hadn't been storming all day, filled with thousands of falling stars. The sea, which had been raging and choppy all day, was calm, and still as glass. The Hunter had come to take his final bow, and as the sky fell, the woman who was to be the savior of Haven disappeared. What Dave and Vince Teague found themselves wondering was what would happen now that the man she loved had gone into The Barn with her.

James looked over at Duke. Without meeting his eyes, Duke whispered, "They're gone."


	19. adria et adeodatus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everything is explained

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler Warning: Spoilers for all of Haven up through and including the end of S3, although this story does not follow exactly the storyline of S3. I've borrowed some episode dialogue where appropriate. One may also notice references to BSG, Doctor Who, Farscape, the Time Traveler's Wife, Buffy, The West Wing, various Nora Roberts novels, and anything else that's influenced me. The title of this piece comes from a line from John Green's book The Fault In Our Stars.
> 
> Acknowledgements: Haven belongs to SyFy, Sam and Jim, etc. Thanks to all the Havenites on Tumblr and Twitter who continue to give me such great support, as well as all the reviewers here and at AO3. Huge shout out to my dear LadyCallie for betaing everything I've written for the last 13 years - she has been instrumental in shaping and guiding this piece. her encouragement, fine editting and storytelling skills, and support have been invaluable. Also huge thanks to my MamaK, the venerable rutsky, who encouraged me to write this and who has been reading this piece throughout it's development. Finally, HUGE thanks to Kitty Chandler and Adsartha Hammett, whose"Murderboards" blog has been instrumental in my research of this piece. Seriously, if you've never been there, their in depth analyses of the characters, locations, mythology, and episodes of Haven are genius. Also, they get 100% credit for the phrase "Fucking Haven." There is a concept in here, about Audrey's incarnations, that I wrote after being inspired by a Doctor Who fanfiction called "A Thousand Languages." Thank you, to that author, for writing a wonderful piece of work and inspiring me.
> 
> Notes: Oh boy. You're either gonna love me or hate me for this one. This is my attempt to explain a lot of unanswered questions about the show's mythology. One more chapter after this! (reviews are love!)

Nathan felt as though he'd spent the night on a tequila bender. His head pounded like a drum kit at a rock concert. His mouth was bone dry and as he tried to move, his stomach pitched. Weak as a newborn kitten, he lay on his side and wretched, viciously. Bile burned his throat and coated his tongue in filth. As he rolled away from the sick, he thought to himself that he hadn't felt this bad since an ill-advised keg party in college.

He hadn't felt…

His eyes flew open. "Holy shit!" he exclaimed, his eyes struggling to adjust to his surroundings. He could feel. He was in the Barn; he'd followed Audrey in, and he could feel.

When they'd come in earlier to get James, he'd been so focused on finding his son, on finding a way to keep Audrey in Haven, on the fact they were in a supernatural recreation of their son's home in Colorado in the 80s, he'd appreciated the novelty of having sensation, but had dismissed it all as a construct and moved on. Now though, knowing he was in the Barn for twenty-seven years, his entire body alive with sensation was almost overwhelming.

He could feel the fabric of his shirt, how sodden with rain water it was, but somehow still scratchy. The wet clothing brought a chill to his skin. His exposed skin was covered in tiny cuts, and those cuts stung as his cold sweat and dirt from the Barn floor entered them. He felt the rough fabric of his jeans – also soaking wet – and the heaviness of his boots on his feet. He felt the chain and ring he wore every day like a talisman, the ring he had found among his father's remains - the metal was cold against his wet skin and the chain scratched as it rubbed between his shirt and skin. He could feel his wet hair sticking to his forehead. He brushed it away and registered the skin on skin contact of his own flesh. It was overwhelming. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He had gone for so long without feeling anything, had convinced himself he was fine with it. Then he had felt Audrey, and that had been a miracle in and of itself. But now he could feel everything - except his bullet wound, he realized. It didn't even so much as ache. It was healed.

He bolted upright into a sitting position. "Audrey!" The light was dim, he could barely see his own feet and still, he searched for her. "Audrey!" She wasn't anywhere to be seen. Scrambling to his feet, he called her name again. "AUDREY!"

"Please, Mr. Wuornos, there's no need to shout." The tall bald black man with the smooth voice and intense gaze stepped out of the shadows.

"Where is she?" Nathan demanded.

The man known as Agent Howard smiled placidly. "She's here."

"I want to see her."

Howard's eyebrows raised. " _You_  want? What makes you think I give a rat's ass about a single thing you want?" He gestured to their surroundings. " _You're_  not supposed to be here."

Nathan glowered. "Where are we?" Howard still smiled, but said nothing. Nathan tried another tack. "Who are you? I know you're not the real Agent Howard. I know in '55 you were Sarah's superior officer, and in '83 you were Lucy's editor. I know you knew my father."

Howard nodded. "Garland Wuornos was a good man. He didn't have to take Max Hansen's son in, but he loved you and your mother, and wanted a better life for you both. It was Lucy who suggested he adopt you, did you know that? One of the last things she did before she ran from her fate was to tell Garland find his family. 'He's a good boy,' she told him. 'He will be an amazing man, but he needs you to teach him, to love him.'" Howard took a few steps towards Nathan. "The woman you know as Audrey has been looking out for you all your life. "

Nathan goggled. Sarah, Lucy, Audrey, whoever she was. He had her to thank for being a Wuornos. For better or worse, she had helped make him who he was, even when he was a child. "Why?" he asked.

"She loved you," Howard replied simply, shrugging, as though the answer was obvious and Nathan was a slightly stupid child. "It's like a Mobius strip. Sarah came to Haven because she was needed, but we couldn't see how she would stay. You and Crocker travelling to 1955 showed her the way. Sarah Vernon loved you, and she stayed in Haven to help the Troubled because you asked her to. She figured out that Garland Wuornos was your father, or would be your father, and helped him when he was a child. When Sarah's time to come back to The Barn came, she told me to seek out Garland Wuornos the next time around."

Howard smirked, again.

Nathan was growing tired of the man's incessant smirking. "Why would you need to seek out my father?"

"We always needed a contact in Haven, someone to look out for Her."

"'We'?" Nathan asked. "Who are 'we'?"

Howard merely smiled.

Nathan sighed.  _Taciturn son of a bitch._ "What's a Mobius strip?"

Howard seemed to consider Nathan's question, as though he were weighing how much he was willing – was able – to tell against how much enjoyment he got out of needling Nathan. "Mathematically, it's a two-dimensional object with a single surface. It has no start and no end."

Nathan considered this. "I travel to 1955 and have a relationship with Sarah, because to me she's always Audrey, who I'm in love with in 2010. Sarah then has a child,  _my_  child, who will grow up to be James Cogan, the Colorado Kid. In 1983, after Cogan is murdered, Lucy gets Garland Wournos to adopt me as his son, so that I grow up to become a police officer, so that in 2010 I will meet Audrey Parker; I fall in love with her and we work together. One case involves me and Duke getting sent back to 1955, where we meet Sarah." A two dimensional object with a single surface. It has no start and no end.

Howard smiled, ruefully, it seemed. "Give the man a medal. The Chief always said you were smart. Smarter than your own good, sometimes."

Nathan nodded, "That sounds like something my father would say. You were in contact with him when Audrey first came to Haven."

Howard, looking somewhat bored, merely said, "You already know the answer to that. Ask me questions you don't already know the answers to."

"What is the Barn? Earlier it looked like James's house and now it's like we're in a production of  _The Crucible_." Nathan heard Audrey's voice in his head, talking to him about a "magic barn."

"Think of the Barn an amplifier for the woman you know as Audrey Parker. It amplifies her energy, keeps the Troubles at bay. But after twenty-seven years, the energy starts to run out. The Troubles start again, and she has to come out of the Barn again to recharge."

Nathan frowned. Howard talked of Audrey as though she was a machine, a tool. "Recharge? On what?"

Howard regarded him coolly, but almost kindly. "On love. It energizes her so that she can go back into the Barn and stop the Troubles again. Sarah had you, and James, and to some extent the Teagues. Lucy had James and Garland. Audrey has you and young Mr. Crocker." The man smiled. "Mr. Wuornos, you have had more to do with stopping the Troubles for the last fifty-five years than you could imagine."

"So, is Audrey Troubled as well?"

Howard shook his head. "No, she's not. She's human, in case you were wondering." His face took on an almost paternalistic look, as though he was reminiscing about his little girl. "She is so very, very human."

"Why a barn, though?" Nathan asked.

"It is the beginning," Howard said. "The beginning of the Troubles."

Nathan looked around at their simple surroundings. "The Troubles started  _here_?"

Howard, didn't answer. He merely turned and walked into the shadows. Nathan hurried to follow him. In the dimly lit hallway, Nathan fell into step beside Howard. For a while, Nathan didn't know quite how long, they walked in silence. Finally, he himself broke it. "What's your real name?"

"It's been so long, I barely remember it," Howard replied honestly, shocking Nathan. "I have had so many names. To Sarah, I was Captain Graham. Lucy knew me as her editor, Richard Manning."

"So...you're her boss?"

"Boss, superior officer, they're all some form of the same thing. I am Her Guardian." He stopped walking, and pushed open a door that had seemingly materialized in front of them. "I am Her Guide."

Guardian. Guide. The Guard. Nathan couldn't help but wonder if the organization Vince and Jordan belonged to had sprung from the man before them. While he didn't agree with their methods, their violence, certainly didn't appreciate their lying and manipulation, they helped the Troubled. Just like Audrey did.

Howard, since he clearly wasn't going to give any better name for Nathan to use, ushered him into another room. Lit by torches, it was the large inner room of an old barn, as though stalls for animals had yet to be built. There was a fire in a stone pit in the center of the large open space. Around it stood thirteen men. One of the men, to Nathan's shock, looked like the Rev.

"Driscoll?" he asked.

Howard shook his head. "Reverend Randall Flagg. For our purposes, he looks like your own Reverend Driscoll. Whereas your Driscoll was a man of the cloth who had been corrupted by his own delusions and misunderstandings, Flagg was no man of God. He never was. He is a demon."

At Nathan's look of surprise, Howard continued. "It's 1686. The Dominion of New England has just been established by His Majesty's Government. Flagg was an accomplished sorcerer and a devoted servant of the Outer Dark. The Puritans settling in this area gave him…a kind of fuel. He disguised himself as a preacher and preyed on their exploited their fear of witchcraft and grew stronger still. Their fear and devotion fed his power. As your own Reverend Driscoll had great influence in your Haven, Flagg's influence over Haven was mighty."

"He lies," came a female voice from above Nathan. "He was here almost at the beginning of Haven, and he lies." Nathan looked up to the loft area and saw a blonde woman, late 20s, blue-green eyes, hair pulled back in a tight bun, wearing the austere dress of a Puritan: grey dress, long sleeves, collar and cuffs.

"Audrey." He breathed her name like a prayer.

"Her name is Grace," Howard corrected. "She was the first."

"The first what?" Nathan asked.

Howard nodded to the men around the fire. "Flagg held a…seminar, of sorts. He advertised for it in the  _Herald_."

"'The Most Revered Flagg to elaborate on the proper devices & most godly mechanisms for the examination and discovery of wytches'" Grace quoted. "But all he did was whip the people into a frenzy, led them to torture and murder innocents. Illness, death, crops that wouldn't grow - he blamed all of these things on witches."

"Stillborn babies weren't the result of bad nutrition, poor healthcare, quirks of DNA," Howard added. "But rather of witches."

"He exploited their fears, exploited their failings." Grace's voice was soft, almost nostalgic, but tinged with sadness. "He convinced them their enemies, their competitors, people who had slighted them, who owed them a debt, were witches. He taught that witches who would not repent deserved only pain, suffering, death."

"There weren't any witches, though," Nathan interjected. "Flagg made it all up."

"Oh, there were witches," Howard said, smiling slightly. His gaze tracked up to where Grace stood.

"I was a hereditary witch. My mother was a witch. Her mother was a witch, as was her mother before her and so on, to the beginning of our line. It passed down through my family, to me. I would have passed it to my daughter, had I lived." Her hand pressed against her belly. "But my child's life ended with mine, as we ended Flagg."

Howard nodded back to the assembled men. "The heads of Haven's twelve original families. They were Flagg's most faithful disciples. He fed off their devotion, and they were his henchmen. They killed a lot of innocent people, here in this barn, executing them for witchcraft."

"Their victims were innocent, persecuted," Grace said. "I had to stop him. I came here, to one of their meetings. Flagg was handing out their assignments, who next to hunt and kill. The houses were to be marked with a red X."

 _Cycles and circles,_  Nathan mused, remember how the dead Rev had led his followers to similarly mark the houses of the Troubled.

"I couldn't let anyone else die," Grace continued. "Even if it meant my life, my child's life, I had to stop them." Tears filled her eyes. "The night of the Hunter Meteor Shower, I left my husband sleeping in our bed; left the man I loved, the brightest light of my life, and came here, to pit my magic against the Dark."

"And you lost," Nathan surmised, feeling suddenly very sad for this woman who wore the face of the woman he loved, who had sacrificed herself and her child for the greater good.

She smiled, "No. I won."

Howard cleared his throat.

She slanted a glance at him. "In a way," she conceded. "I defeated Flagg in his physical form. I scattered him, scattered his power, but I could not bind him. His power, his evil, went into the twelve men, wanted to live on in them. He infected them." She gazed around the circle, nodding at the men. "Edmund Teagues. Samuel Keegan. Richard Caldwell. Ezra Novelli. William Glendower. Joseph Crocker. Lewis Rasmussen. Frances Wournos. Robert Hansen. Jeremiah Holloway. Thomas Brody. Cornelius Hopkins. "

Nathan could only stare at his however many times great-grandfathers, biological and adopted. At Duke's. They were the ancestors of the Troubles. The Origins. "If Flagg's… essence went in to those men, how did the Troubles spread to so many families?"

"My last act was twofold. I was dying. I used what was left of my gift to try and… dilute Flagg's power. I mixed his power with my own, spread it out amongst not only these men, but other townspeople. Through their progeny, through intermarrying, through their adultery, I was able to extend Flagg's essence amongst enough people so that it was much weaker in force."

"So Driscoll was right, the Troubled are evil." It was a thunderbolt revelation. Yes, he and Audrey had referred to the Troubled, himself included, as "cursed" sometimes, but knowing that the Troubles were rooted in evil made him feel vaguely ill.

" _No_ ," Grace said sharply, her voice so like Audrey's it made him ache. "These men were misguided, confused. They were not evil. Flagg was evil personified, and his evil tried to infect them. I tried to bury it, subdue it by mixing it with my own power. I was able to dilute it, and put it into a kind of hibernation."

"So that it would appear every twenty seven years," Howard supplied.

"What was the second part?" Nathan asked.

"We swore that we would return, with the Troubles, to defeat what was left of Flagg's evil, to rid this place of every vestige of him." It was a new voice this time. Beside Grace stood a woman with long ebony hair. Audrey's face, but she had hair dark as night, thick and wavy. Her dress was more sumptuous, more elaborate than her predecessor's. "So when Grace died, this Barn disappeared with her. Twenty seven years later, my ship from England landed here, and my name was Phoebe. I came with him," she nodded at Howard.

"I was her servant, then," Howard said. "I had been bound to Grace's family by her grandmother, entrusted by her mother to protect Grace from evil." He looked enigmatic, but nostalgic. "And that is what I continue to do."

"I helped the Troubled. I stopped some, saved some people." Her pretty face looked haunted by regret. "But I could never save everyone, never stop them for good. And the meteor shower would come, and I would disappear for another cycle. And so it continued, every twenty seven years."

Women appeared around the loft. Their clothing, and hair -color, length, style, and texture - changed as they went through the 18th century, into the 19th, then the 20th. But they all had Audrey's face, her eyes. A woman with a smart brown bob and bangs, dressed for the Roaring 20s, stepped forward.

"My name is Evelyn. By my time, some of the families had tried to change things, become more than their Troubles. Along the line the Crockers tried to stop things in their way, no matter how much we tried to convince them it wasn't the way. The Wuornos line had begun to protect the town. The Teagues, as always, wrote for the  _Herald_."

Nathan's eyes tracked around the loft looking at all the women. At the woman. Grace, Phoebe, Evelyn, Sarah, Lucy. All the same woman. The woman he loved.

"You look like him," Grace said, wistfully, as though reading his thoughts. "Like my husband. His name was Nathaniel. Cycles and circles," she mused with as mild.

Nathan blanched at that. Then a thought occurred to him. "Wait, am I a part of this? Does someone who looks like me come around every twenty seven years?"

"No," Sarah said, her voice bright and sassy. "Your face is a rare one."

"And your memories are entirely your own," Lucy added.

"My husband was a Hansen," Grace said. "My father-in-law feared my power, and fell victim to Flagg's trickery." She smiled. "No one since my husband has looked like you."

"Maybe that's what we were waiting for."

A familiar voice rang out, unique, despite all these women having the same face. Nathan spun, eyes wide, in the direction of the voice. Audrey, clothes and hair dry, clean, healed, eyes bright, walked out of the shadows towards Nathan and Agent Howard.

He held a hand out to her. When she took it, it was like someone turned up the volume. He'd felt his wounds, his wet clothes. But with her touch, everything felt bright, felt whole. Felt real.

"Howdy, stranger," she murmured, eyes shining. Standing on tiptoe, she pecked his cheek, an almost absent, habitual gesture.

He smiled, "Hey Parker." He slanted a sideways glance at her. "Your –"  _Sisters? Clones? Yourself?_ "They've been bringing me up to speed. Do you know what's going on?"

Audrey nodded, "I never remember it fully, until I come here." She looked at her Selves. "Until we're all together again. When the cycle renews and a new Us goes to Haven, We forget again."

His heart clenched, briefly, with a sudden fresh bite of fear that if he got out of here and she didn't, when he saw her again not only would she not remember him, she wouldn't remember their love.

Still holding his hand, Audrey looked up at the women she considered sisters. It was easier for her 21st century brain than thinking of them as herself. They were, however similar in mission, in face - and despite Nathan's prior instance they were all her - different women. Thinking of them all as herself made Audrey feel like she had multiple personalities.  _Which, I guess I kinda do._  She met each woman's eyes, seeing herself reflected back at her.

To Grace, she said, "Maybe your mistake was going after Flagg on your own."

Grace appeared in front of her and Nathan, frowning. "My husband didn't have magic. It was not his fight. It was for me to do."

"Yeah," Audrey said softly. "That's what I thought too. 'It's better if I do it on my own. I don't need anyone.'" She looked at her hand, twined with Nathan's. Could almost hear a humming as flesh touched flesh. "It turns out it wasn't better. I did better with a partner. With a friend." She looked at Sarah. "You tried having friends. Vince and Dave."

Sarah nodded, "They were both in love with me, and it broke their hearts when I couldn't return their feelings. Dave never saw me the same way after I started showing. Vince..." She trailed off. "I couldn't tell them who the father was." She looked at Nathan. "How could I explain it? He was born early, and so small, our James. But a fighter."

"Like his mother," Nathan said, feeling a pang that he had missed so much of his son's life. His son was now, in appearance at least, only seven years younger than he was. That was Haven, and time travel, for you.

Sarah smiled, "Like his father too. When I brought him to Colorado, I changed his birthday to match his size. I thought it would protect him, in some small way."

"But he found out the truth, came to Haven, looking for his mother," Lucy said. "Instead, he found me. And being with me in Haven did exactly what Sarah had been afraid of. It cost him his life. I had friends, like Garland Wuornos," she said to Audrey. "And I had my son. I loved him. It wasn't enough. It didn't stop the Troubles. We tried, James, Garland, and I. We didn't stop anything." She bit her lip. "We thought we found something but..."

"What was it?" Nathan asked.

"She can't tell you," Howard said. His voice carried a hint of warning. "You have to figure it out on your own. It's a rule."

Audrey exchanged glances with Nathan, remembering her earlier conversation with Howard on Kick 'Em Jenny Neck. "Apparently, these rules are kinda my fault."

"Troublemaker," Nathan muttered, not without irony.

"Literally," she replied with a smirk.

"Magic and Nature require balance, require order," Grace interjected. "Dark or Light Magic, there are rules. Flagg's magic had rules, as did mine." She exchanged glances with Lucy. "Whatever we discover in our time out of the Barn, to stop the Troubles, end the last vestiges of Flagg's hold on this town, if we cannot employ it before we must return to the Barn, that knowledge must be obtained again during the next cycle, or other methods discovered."

"It was just one way," Lucy said. "Not the only way." Her voice was full of hope and uncertainty, as though she really wanted to make incontrovertibly true what she was saying.

"Let me help her," Nathan said. "We can figure this out, together."

"My husband could not have defeated Flagg easier than I did," Grace insisted, still hung up on Audrey's calling her choice a mistake.

"Not alone, no," Nathan said. "But I bet if you had asked him, he would have gone with you, been by your side." He brought Audrey's fingers to his lips, kissing them gently. "Fought with you.  _Died_  with you, for you, if it meant making things right."

Audrey noticed Howard exchange glances with Lucy. She puzzled at it, but filed it away for later as Nathan continued speaking.

"Sure, he would have wanted to protect you and your child. I bet he was as stubborn as you were." His amused eyes glanced sidelong at Audrey.

Grace sputtered, "I am not –"

"Face it, sister," Evelyn said. "It's our picture next to the word 'stubborn' in the dictionary."

Before Grace could manage a retort, Audrey held her hand up for peace. "He's right. I tried to push him away, to protect him from the pain of losing me, and he died anyway. Pushing him away only made things worse, for each of us, and for Haven. We may not have figured it all out yet, but together, I know we are strong." She looked at their joined hands, twined fingers. "We are a force."

Grace was back in the loft. As the women and Howard considered this, Nathan leaned down and whispered in Audrey's ear, "Can you say that thing again about how I'm right?"

She elbowed him in the ribs, sharply. "Watch it, Wuornos."

He grunted, but smiled.

"Send us back," Audrey called out, interrupting the conversations in the loft. "Let us finish what we started, what you all started."

"Letting us remember what happened here might help," Nathan added.

"Send us back to where and  _when_  we came from," Audrey begged. "We were so close. I know we were."

Grace frowned, considering. "The pattern has continued unbroken for thirteen cycles."

"Perhaps a change in how we approach the matter would not be unwarranted," Phoebe mused.

"The people of Haven need a respite, though, from the Troubles," Evelyn interjected.

"Those poor people deserve a break," Sarah agreed. "We can't just send them back without any time passing."

Nathan felt as though a brick had landed in his stomach. He could not imagine ending up in Haven in 2037. Their son would be in his mid fifties. Duke would be almost an old man, if he had managed to stay alive that long. The Teagues would be long dead. What kind of world would he and Audrey go back to?

Audrey turned to him. "Whatever they decide, whatever happens...thank you, for never giving up on me."

He smiled, "Hey, you wouldn't let me die, twice. I wasn't going to let you disappear into a magic barn for twenty seven years." He glanced at the women around him. "What do you think they're going to do?"

Audrey shrugged, "I have no idea."

"Aren't they you?" he teased. "What would  _you_  do?"

She bit her lip as she considered his question. "Well, I suppose –"

"It is decided," Grace announced.

Audrey and Nathan found themselves in the center of a circle of twelve women, with the man they knew as Agent Howard standing just outside the circle, his face obscured by shadows. Audrey couldn't tell if he approved of whatever was going to happen, or if he didn't care. She was his job. Did his involvement end with Grace's grandmother's binding?

Around them, the women clasped hands. Grace with Phoebe, who then took her next incarnation's hand.  _Ellen_ , Audrey thought.  _I was Ellen in 1740._  "Ellen Wedgewood," she murmured absently, more to herself than anyone else. "Prudence Hopewell, 1767."

Nathan's eyes tracked around the circle as Audrey continued the litany of her past selves.

"Rebecca Parsons, 1794. Anna Mitchell, 1821. Hannah Samuels, 1848. Nancy James, 1875. Peggy Gordon, 1902. Evelyn McGovern, 1929."

All the women she named smiled back at them, beatifically.

"Fare well, sister," Prudence said in a light and airy voice.

"Succeed where we have failed," Peggy ordered.

"We will," Audrey promised. "I swear we will."

"You'd better." A mutter from the shadows. Nathan sent a dark glance towards Agent Howard.

The women started chanting, in Latin, in Gaelic; Nathan couldn't tell. It felt as though the room were starting to spin.

"Hey Parker," he whispered. When she met his eyes, he yanked her against him. "If we get back to Haven, and you don't remember me… "

She cut him off. "Stop it. Of course I'll remember you. I have to remember you."

"You have to remember what we learned here," he countered. "Not that you love me. Maybe they send us back and we have to find each other again."

She refused to believe her sisters would do that. Not when she'd just convinced them that it was only with Nathan that they had any hope of ending the Troubles. "No. We go back together, just as we are." She placed a hand on his chest, felt his heart beat through his damp clothes. "I love you, Nathan Wuornos. You're not getting rid of me that easily."

The room began to spin faster. "Okay then," he said, mollifying her. As he lowered his lips to hers, feeling them both spin like they were on a ride at the county fair, he found himself wishing he could believe as strongly as she did.

"Stop the Troubles," twelve voices ordered them in concert, making one voice. "One year is yours the Troubles to stop, or all there is and was is lost, All that will be.  _That_  is the cost. Thirteen times this cycle has spun, never has the day been won. One trip of Earth around the sun is all you have to get it done. End this strife, stop their plight, before the Hunter comet's next flight. Love, trust, and courage may win the day, lest Haven fall to the fray. Banish his evil, bind his soul, only this can save the whole. With success comes sacrifice, remember this as you fight for life. We send you back so that all are free. As we will, so mote it be."

Like Dorothy on her way to Oz, Nathan and Audrey, clinging to each other, felt as though they were trapped in a cyclone. As when they were brought into the Barn, there was a strange noise, a tugging sensation, and then nothing but the black.


	20. maybe redemption has stories to tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we come to the end of our story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler Warning: Spoilers for all of Haven up through and including the end of S3, although this story does not follow exactly the storyline of S3. I've borrowed some episode dialogue where appropriate. One may also notice references to BSG, Doctor Who, Farscape, the Time Traveler's Wife, Buffy, The West Wing, various Nora Roberts novels, and anything else that's influenced me. The title of this piece comes from a line from John Green's book The Fault In Our Stars. Chapter title comes from the song "I Dare You to Move" by Switchfoot.
> 
> Acknowledgements: Haven belongs to SyFy, Sam and Jim, etc. Thanks to all the Havenites on Tumblr and Twitter who continue to give me such great support, as well as all the reviewers here and at AO3. Huge shout out to my dear LadyCallie for betaing everything I've written for the last 13 years - she has been instrumental in shaping and guiding this piece. her encouragement, fine editting and storytelling skills, and support have been invaluable. Also huge thanks to my MamaK, the venerable rutsky, who encouraged me to write this and who has been reading this piece throughout it's development. Finally, HUGE thanks to Kitty Chandler and Adsartha Hammett, whose"Murderboards" blog has been instrumental in my research of this piece. Seriously, if you've never been there, their in depth analyses of the characters, locations, mythology, and episodes of Haven are genius. Also, they get 100% credit for the phrase "Fucking Haven."
> 
> Notes: For anyone who saw the picture Emily posted of her new look, I totally called the hair thing when I wrote this chapter back in January.

The woman woke slowly and with a groan. She was nowhere  _near_  ready for it to be morning. She felt as though she'd just had the worst, but somehow the deepest sleep of her life. Her body felt weighed-down, like she had been sleeping at the bottom of a pit under heavy sand. At the same time, she felt as though she had hardly slept at all. It was was a feeling half-hangover, half-sleep deprivation, all unpleasant. What time had she gone to bed? What had she been doing last night that she should feel so over-tired, so unrested? Maybe she was coming down with something, she thought. Her stomach felt a little queasy and her mouth was a little dry.

With a yawn, she scrubbed a hand over her face and reluctantly cracked an eye open. Immediately wishing she hadn't, as the room was blindingly bright, she screwed her eyes shut again. Too early, she thought, whatever time it was. Her alarm hadn't woken her, so she knew it was No Way In Hell O'clock - too early to get up. Stretching her body to shake out some of the heaviness, and with the hope of getting better sleep until her alarm forced her to wake up and face the day, she rolled over to settle back to sleep.

Her hand brushed over his bare chest as she rolled and in sleep, his arm automatically came around her. With a contented sigh, she settled her head on his chest and felt his fingers scratch lightly at her scalp as he encouraged her to go back to sleep, even though he was still mostly asleep himself. She threw her right leg across his and let the scent of him, the feel of him, lull her back to sleep. In her ear, his heartbeat sounded, strong and steady and reassuring. His breathing was slow and easy, and she waited for it to help her fall back asleep. She breathed him in, sleep and sweat and fading soap and anti-perspirant. She thought she smelled sawdust and rainwater, and the metallic tang of blood. Wrinkling her nose, she made a note to herself to never again before bed drink...whatever in the hell it was that she'd drunk that had made her feel like hell and imagine he smelled like rain and blood. With a sigh, she held him tighter, tried to burrow more closely to him in a bid to get back to sleep.

At night, she couldn't fall asleep like this; neither of them could. They would try, almost nightly, to settle in wrapped around each other, but inevitably one of them would roll to their side, the other to their back, and they would fall asleep that way. Mornings like this, though, when one of them woke up far too early for human decency, they would tangle themselves up in one another and sleep the always too-short twilight sleep that was inevitably interrupted by an alarm clock.

_It's his turn to make the coffee,_  she thought as she drifted in that place that was neither asleep or awake. His turn to make the coffee and her turn to make dinner, if the day's events got them home at a reasonable hour. Otherwise it was her turn to pick the takeout they would share, or hoard for themselves as they poured over their case notes, clues, leads, evidence.  _Evidence. Police work. FBI. Haven. The Troubles. The Colorado Kid. JamesTheBarn. RandallFlagg. TheGuardArla. TattoosTheSkinwalker. Clairedead. Eleanordead. Arladead. Eviedead. Garlanddead. StoptheTroublesDoNotFailstopstopstopstop!_

With a gasp, she sat up like she'd been shot out of a cannon. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed loudly.

Her cry woke him fully, and he bolted to sitting beside her. "What? What's wrong?" His blue eyes squinted against the light of the room and as he adjusted to the light, he took stock of her.

Her wild blue-green eyes met his and in them he saw shock, and maybe a little bit of fear. Her face was pale, her hair still mussed from sleep. He could see the tiny creases the pillow case had left on her skin while she slept. He shook his head to clear the last of the drowsiness, blinking at the very-bright sunlight that filled the room.

"Who are you?" she demanded, her body rigid, in fight or flight.

His stomach sank.  _Oh shit_. "Nathan," he said slowly, like you were supposed to speak to wounded, terrified, potentially rabid animals.  _You bastards_ , he thought. They'd sent him back as he was, but she was repeating the pattern.

"Oh thank God!" she exclaimed, and launched herself into his arms. Nathan found himself surrounded by laughing, weeping, shaking, vibrant woman, and couldn't help but feel as though it had been years since they had seen each other.  _It probably has been_ , he thought as he buried his face in her hair and just breathed her in. She smelled clean - lilies and lilacs, oddly enough, vanilla, sawdust and wood smoke. Her hair tickled his nose but he disregarded it. He was here and she was here and they were together and alive and whole, and she knew his name and he knew hers - all of them - and that was the only thing in this world or any other that mattered.

"Audrey?" he asked tentatively, just to be sure, his lips brushing her neck lightly as he spoke.

She pulled back from him slightly, nodding. Her face was flushed with relief and happiness. "We're home," she whispered. "We made it." She ran her fingers over his bare torso, feeling the planes and textures of him, the hardness, the softness. She couldn't quite believe they were really back, that this wasn't another construct of the Barn. She touched his shoulder, where she knew, based on the time she  _felt_  had elapsed, there should have been a raw, newly-healing bullet wound. Instead, it was healed, another old scar he would carry for the rest of his life.

"Yeah," he replied with a smile as he moved to kiss her. He could see the myriad of emotions swarming on her face as she tried to process everything that had happened to them. "Welcome back to Haven, Audrey Parker." He brushed his lips over hers, soft and gentle.

For him, she smiled. "Welcome back to Haven, Nathan Wuornos," she replied against his mouth before she returned his kiss, reveling in the familiarity of him, in the comfort of one of the few constants in her life: this man and his devotion, love, friendship, loyalty. One person she could absolutely trust. If anything, it was even truer now than when she'd first uttered those words to him.

They had done as she asked, the women who were herself; Howard, the Barn itself. They had sent her and Nathan back as themselves. They had spoken of rules, but had somehow found a loophole to grant their request.  _Send me back, whole, with this man, as we are,_  she'd begged them. And they had.

Gently, Audrey broke the kiss and pulled away from him slightly. Resting her forehead against his, she found that she couldn't stop touching him. She ran her hands idly over his arms, his back; she needed an anchor. She brushed her fingers through his hair and frowned.

"What?" he asked, nuzzling her cheek. He was wrapped up in her, lost in her. Wherever and whenever they were, he wanted to take a few moments to savor her, to savor this. He sent up a silent prayer of thanks to whatever gods were listening, and to the women who had come before the one in his arms, who smelled of sleep and sweat, rain and wind, sawdust and flowers.

"Your hair is longer," she told him, and laughed when he jerked upright and began tugging at it to try to see. "I mean, it's not Duke-long, but it's definitely longer than it was yesterday."

He looked at her. "Your hair is longer too," he said, reaching out to touch it, to show her. "It's halfway down your back."

Audrey glanced awkwardly over her shoulder at the thicker, longer, slightly wavier curtain of blonde. "They couldn't resist sending us back with a few alterations, I guess." She sighed, having a feeling it was Howard messing with them for his own amusement. She scooped a hand through said hair to work out some of the sleep tangles. "I guess we need to figure out how many yesterday's we've missed."

Looking around, they finally took stock in their surroundings. They had been too wrapped up in each other to notice or care where they were, other than somewhere warm and safe. The bedclothes were unfamiliar, but the wrought iron headboard was a familiar sight. One large room with a galley kitchen, an old but comfortable couch, an upright piano and a large stone fireplace; they knew immediately where they were.

"The Gull," Audrey said with a smile.

"It's as good a place as any, I guess," Nathan said, wondering what had happened to his house since they'd been gone, to his father's. He watched as she climbed out of bed and pulled on the robe that had been tossed casually over the footboard. "Your clothes are still here," he observed, vis a vis the robe. "We can't have been gone that long."

"No," she said, moving aside some curtains to peer out the window. "I've never seen this robe before in my life."  _Besides_ , she thought,  _the last time I saw this place it was trashed._  She turned to him. "I think this is like our hair. It's part of being sent back."

At his puzzled look, she explained. "I've been thinking about it. The day Howard came to my apartment in Boston, tasked me to come up here - I'm assuming that was my first day out of the Barn. But I had clothes, books, furniture. It may have been a replica of the original Audrey's apartment, but I had clothes to pack and bring up here for that first case."

He climbed out of bed and padded, barefoot across the cold floor to join her at the window, naked but for a pair of flannel pajama pants he'd never seen in his life.

"Whatever else the Barn is," Audrey continued, "It sets me up with what I need when I come out." She squinted in the bright morning light. The cove, the dock, the houses up the street looked the same as when she'd last been here, even if they hadn't even covered with a foot of snow then, as they were now. "Well, it's clearly winter but other than that, I've got nothing. No flying cars or anything."

He grinned at her. "Flying cars?"

"2037," she said, returning the smile. "They've been calling flying cars a sign of the future since I was Sarah."

She started to wobble, her eyes going glassy.  _Sarah loves to get sodas from the Jerk on Main Street after a particularly long day. Lucy hates seafood, which is a problem in Maine. Anna is a governess to two children, a boy and a girl. Peggy has a single room in a women's boarding house on the corner of Winthrop and Beech. Evelyn works as a cigarette girl in the underground jazz club. Hannah is a school teacher and loves the smell of chalk dust._

Nathan grabbed her arm and she blinked. "New memories," she observed. "Okay, that's weird."

"Do you have everyone's memories?"

"I dunno," she replied. "Maybe, some. I mean, I can't tell you what Grace had for dinner the night she went to take on Flagg, but there's some stuff there, yeah." It was different than her previous memory flashes, which had been violent and brutal, but faded and murky. These memories were vivid and bright, but steady, like a memory of how one's backyard looked in childhood or the arrangement of a beloved grandmother's parlor.

Her head was cocked to the side and her eyes were distant, unseeing or fixed on some faraway point.  _She looks like a stranger_ , he thought. Then she shook her head and like an old tv coming back into focus, she looked like his Audrey again.

"That might come in handy," he said with an easy smile to hide his discomfort at what had just happened.

"The more you know," she quipped.

A strange, loud noise startled them both. They stared at each other, horrified. Then Audrey started giggling uncontrollably. "Was that your stomach or mine?"

"No idea," he replied. "But I'm starving. Let's see if they sent us back with supplies to make pancakes, since it's possible we haven't eaten for twenty-seven years."

He started walking towards the kitchen, but Audrey grabbed his bare arm, alarmed and excited. "Wait, you're hungry?" she asked delightedly. "You can feel?"

Nathan smiled and began heading for the kitchen. "Didn't I mention that?"

"No!" she exclaimed, chasing after him to slap at his bare arm. When he let out a small "ow," she smiled. "So maybe the Troubles haven't started yet."

"I dunno," he replied, rattling around in her cabinets for supplies. "Howard said you usually come out of the Barn when your...battery runs out." He frowned at the analogy. "Which is what makes the Troubles start up again. Your battery was never run this time, but you weren't in the Barn all that long either." He set a bag of chocolate chips on the counter, knowing they were her favorite, and chuckled when she reached out and opened it to eat a few.

"We don't know how much time passed," she pointed out. "We were in there for - it felt like a couple hours, max. Maybe that's how I don't age." She popped a few more morsels into her mouth as he pulled eggs and buttermilk from the fridge, items she knew hadn't been in there when she'd left. "Time moves differently in the Barn than out here. I'm never here more than a year, and from my perspective I'm only in the Barn for a couple hours."

Nathan kicked a cabinet shut with his heel and set a heavy cast iron skillet on the hot plate and turned on the heat . "So what, you've only aged..." He quickly did some math in his head. "Six and a half years in the last 320 years?"

"Could be almost 350 now, for all we know," she said absently, walking over to switch the TV on, in hopes of finding out some information as to when they were.

As he set about mixing batter, he frowned after her. "Audrey, is it weird for you that -"

The rest of his question was cut off by the front door being flung open. A tall man, backlit by the bright morning sun, stood just outside of it, on the porch. He had kicked it open.

"I don't know who the hell you are," he said, voice booming as he stepped into the doorway. "But I just rented this place out and -  _holy shit_!"

Audrey squinted against the blinding whiteness from outside. "Duke?"

Tall and lean with hair longer than when they'd last seen him, wearing a big blue parka and heavy snow boots, Duke Crocker stood gaping at the pair of them. "I just rented this place!" he complained, stamping his foot, half tantrum, half practicality - he had an inch of snow caked to his boots.

A grin spread slowly across his face. "Well I'll be damned." His two closest friends, lost to time and the universe, who he'd last seen sucked into the Barn in the middle of a November hurricane, stood before him, looking like a regular couple who'd just rolled out of bed.  _They're a couple of something_ , he thought, amused and still reeling from the shock of seeing them.

"Shut the door!" Nathan called, interrupting Duke's reverie. The icy winter wind whipped up snow and blew it through the open doors. "It's fucking freezing out there." He winked at Audrey before fixing a scowl on his face.

Duke frowned. "You can feel?" Processing that, he stamped the remaining snow off his boots and stepped into the apartment, shutting the door behind him.

"Yeah," Audrey said, crossing to him. "He can." She flashed him a bright, grateful smile.

Duke whistled, "Well, maybe it  _is_  a brave new world."

Impulsively, Audrey rose on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around him. "It's so good to see you," she whispered in his ear when his arms came around her.

"Yeah," he said gruffly. "You too, Aud." He breathed her in, remembering the last time she'd held him; her farewell in the police station amidst blood and death and destruction. He'd thought of that farewell every day since she'd left, had thought of both of them every day. Sometimes the door to the Gull would open and he'd expect them to come walking in, looking for a drink or a quick meal. He never stopped leaving the coffee pot to brew a fresh batch every morning, as he'd done for Audrey when she was his tenant. He'd missed them.

Nathan approached them as Audrey stepped out of the hug. "Duke."

Duke eyed him warily. "Nathan."

Audrey rolled her eyes.  _Men_. "Oh for Christ's sake, you're happy to see each other, admit it." An indeterminate amount of time had passed, and she was hungry and in desperate need of coffee. They would do well not to mess with her, she thought, eyeing them both.

Without commenting, Duke extended his hand to Nathan. With only a little suspicion, which in and of itself was mostly for form, Nathan reached out and clasped Duke's forearm solidly, in friendship. The other man pulled him into a one-armed hug. They were friends, the oldest of friends and the closest either had to a  _best_  friend, save for Audrey. They'd been enemies once, but the way you could be an enemy with someone you loved, who'd hurt you.

"After all this time, I suppose it's not so bad seeing your ugly mug either," Duke said with a smile as they pulled apart.

"How long have we been gone?" Audrey asked as she headed towards the kitchen to make some coffee.

"Three years, ish," Duke said haltingly, following her. "It's 2013. New Year's Day, 2013."

"Happy New Year," Nathan muttered as he resumed making breakfast.

"Could've been worse," Audrey remarked as she set about making coffee. "I was prepared for it to be 2037."

"Oh it is," Duke jested. "I'm just very well preserved."

"Pickled, more like," Nathan muttered.

"Hey!" Duke snapped, pointing his finger at the other man and schooling a stern look on his face. "Just cuz you can feel now, don't think I won't kick your ass."

"The only way you could kick my ass is if you were amped up on some Troubled blood," Nathan countered.

Audrey chuckled at their banter, watching the coffee drip into the pot. It was mesmerizing, and gave her time to gather the courage to ask about the elephant in the room.

She set three mugs on the counter, then met Duke's eyes. "Are the Troubles back?" Her voice was quiet and serious.

"Well, if they weren't before," Duke said, helping himself to some chocolate chips. "They certainly are now." His voice wasn't accusatory, but matter-of-fact.

Audrey sighed. "People aren't going to be too happy to see me. This time it really is my fault."

While Duke frowned, Nathan stepped over and squeezed her shoulder. "It'll be fine."

"It won't," Duke replied, understanding that time in the Barn had done nothing for Nathan's woefully over-developed sense of optimism in regards to the town's opinion of Audrey. "But who cares?" he continued, watching Audrey fill the mugs with coffee. "How is it your fault?"

She sighed as Nathan began to plate three servings of breakfast. "It's kind of a long story."

"I got time," Duke replied, carrying flatware over to the ancient dining table. There was a center piece on it that hadn't been there the last time he'd looked in on this apartment - two days ago, with his new tenant.  _Fucking Haven_ , he thought.

Audrey exchanged a worried glance with Nathan as they brought breakfast to the table. It wasn't that she thought Duke would react negatively to what they'd learned, but his might be the most positive response they'd get, and would be a barometer of how hard the year they'd been given was truly going to be.

One year.  _One trip of Earth around the sun is all you have to get it done_ , her sisters had told her. One year to stop a cycle she'd set in motion three centuries earlier. One year to find and destroy - and she couldn't believe this is the direction her life had taken - a  _demon_  whose essence had been poisoning the town for centuries, kept only at bay by the vestiges of power her first self had given.

_I'm a witch_ , she thought. It was new information, and yet something she'd always known, and had continually forgotten. _I was a witch and a governess and a nurse and a reporter and a school teacher. I am a former FBI agent. I am a cop. I am the mother of James Cogan, the Colorado Kid. I like cupcakes and bubble baths and the smell of the steam radiators in old buildings. I am in love with Nathan Wuornos. Duke Crocker is my friend. I have loved and lost and cannot lose this time around. I am strong. I_ can _finish this._

She knew Nathan and Duke watched her patiently, both of them giving her the time she needed to collect her thoughts. She was so lucky with these men, these men who loved her and were loyal to her, who would protect her and be protected by her; who knew when she needed to laugh, knew when she needed to cry, knew when she needed a good kick in the ass. They were more than their biology, more than their legacies - Nathan, eschewing any vestiges of the life he might've had as Max Hansen's son, a life Garland Wuornos had saved him from; Duke, determined to break generations of habit, to be more than his own family legacy. They were both, every day, the pair of them striving to be more, to be better, to have a life among, or in spite of the Troubles.

Troubles she had caused. Troubles she now had to stop.

Audrey set down her fork. She took a deep breath, met Duke's eyes...

And began her story.

* * *

_The End._

_Thank you for reading, for your support and reviews. They have meant more to me than you know. There_ is _a sequel being written, but it's in the early stages. Still, I hope to start posting in a month or so._


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